The lights in the distance look like an airport, but there is no airport here. I can’t tell you the source of the lights, only that they are laid out flat along a horizontal line, like a runway. The lights are white and seem to be flickering, but it may only be a trick of my eyesight. My eyes are adjusting here. There is much to adjust to.
I can’t tell you yet where I am, only that I am safe.
I can’t tell you yet why I am here, only that it is not entirely by choice.
I can’t tell you why I left you behind. One day, I will, but today just know that I love you.
For now I need you to become accustomed to living without me. You are capable, the two of you together. I know you don’t always get along, but you must try. You must forge some kind of peace. If it is fragile, so be it. But you will need each other in the coming days. More than you can know.
This is chapter two of By The Time You Read This, a serialized novella.