A few days later Emma went to the trailer in the woods, where August had lived, or rather hid, the last couple of months. She didn't even know why she wanted to go there. She probably just wanted to say goodbye in a way. And she also wanted to collect his personal stuff to bring to Marco.
When she entered the trailer she quickly realized that he hadn't brought much to this little exile of his. However, she found the box with the typewriter on a small table in the corner. It was closed but about a dozen crumpled sheets of paper lay all around the table. She collected them and unfolded them. There was barely more than a sentence on any of them and they were all unfinished letters to her, Emma.

"Emma, I'm sorry I left you alone in that orphanage."
"Emma, I'm sorry you had to go to jail because of me."
"Emma, I'm sorry I messed up your life."
"Emma, I'm sorry …"

What a waste of paper, she thought angrily. She didn't even know why she was angry. She had known all this for some time now. Maybe it was because she suddenly felt cheated out of a real apology. Maybe it was because this stupid box brought back memories, which made her miss him again and she didn't like that. Over the last few days she had told herself that everything was good the way it was. It was good that August – well no – Pinocchio was given a second chance and that he finally could be happy with his father. She needed to believe that. And thinking about the man he once was but would never be again, didn't exactly help.
She opened the box and, as expected, found the typewriter in it. Emma pulled out the sheet that was still inserted. Again, there was only one sentence written on it. But this time it was no apology.

"Emma, I love you."

She froze.
No!
He couldn't possibly…
This couldn't be…

…true.
Truthful.

She was not ready for all the emotions that threatened to overcome her now. She did not want to cry. But tears started to blur her vision anyway and made their way down her cheeks.

True.
Truthful.

He had been truthful about his feelings. Now she had to be truthful about hers too. And the truth was that she might love him too. She hadn't allowed herself to feel those feelings, because he was now a 7-year old and that fact made her feelings inappropriate in every possible way. But this little sentence on an otherwise blank paper had changed everything.
With determined steps she made her way back to town. She had to do something. There had to be a way to bring him back. They lived in a town with magic, after all.