From Danika Starbourne
Danika Starbourne
High Ridge Observatory
Libby,
First, let me just say thank you for the gift. It has been put to good use. Repeatedly. Enthusiastically. Possibly even spiritually at this point. You remain the best friend a girl could ask for.
That being said, I now live in absolute silence where sound carries for miles, and I’m starting to worry my neighbors might hear the vibrations through the trees.
So if I become a tragic missing person’s case, I’ll need you to clear my browser history and dispose of the evidence before my parents find it.
I’m trusting you with this. Do not fail me.
Speaking of creeps, apparently, they exist everywhere—even in remote, off-the-grid observatories.
Do you remember Old Man Morvain? I don’t think we ever met him, but he lives in the north part of the observatory compound. I think he put a letter in my mailbox claiming we’re soul mates. I haven’t seen him yet, but I am on high alert sleeping with a hiking stick next to the bed.
First of all, who just announces that in a letter?
And B of all, who even writes letters anymore?
Wait, don’t answer that. I can hear your snark.
Anyway, you should come visit. I know you’re allergic to nature these days, but we used to love this place.
It’s certainly inspiring me. I’ve never felt so clear-headed in my life.
Just staring up at the stars every night, I swear I can hear them singing to me.
Like some kind of cosmic violin melody, weaving itself into my bones.
Even the materials I work with hum on a different frequency, like they’re vibrating with something just beneath the surface.
Or maybe that’s just the toy you sent me. Jury’s still out.
Either way, every night, my chest feels like it’s burning with something I can’t quite name. Maybe I should have been an astronaut. Maybe I belong somewhere beyond this planet. But for now, I’m happy here.
I know I can’t stay forever. Eventually, real life will come knocking again. But until then, I’m going to make the most of it. I’ve never been this creative before. It’s like something opened up inside me a few weeks ago, and now everything I’ve ever wanted to create is just pouring out of me.
I’m telling you, Lib, the stars are calling. You should come hear them with me.
Love you loads,
~Dani
PS: Send more batteries, please.