Her own hand
Luna’s journal.
What she wrote when nobody was going to read it — filed by the room she wrote it in, and by who it’s about. One page each.
6 entriesat the lakehouse · about Josh
The day the last box went
Ten years fits into fewer boxes than you would think. I counted them while he loaded the truck because…
He called this morning
Six months of nothing and then his name on my phone at seven in the morning like no time had passed at all.
Getting ready, and he turned up
The kitchen
I can't tell him.
The rest is in the Vault
In the bathroom, and I'm shaking a bit
The bathroom
He let himself in with groceries I didn't ask for, because of course he did, and I was standing at the mirror…
The rest is in the Vault
Back at the firepit, on my own
The firepit
Same chairs. Same wood pile. I built the fire myself and made a worse job of it than he does, and sat in his…
The rest is in the Vault
The morning after that
The kitchen
He made coffee. Put the cups back in the wrong cupboard on purpose. Neither of us said one word about it and…
The rest is in the Vault