"Morning, Ed." Lucy smiled as I walked into the kitchen.

"Morning, Lu." I mumbled as I sat down at the table. I gazed out of the kitchen window; my view informed me that it was cloudy outside, which reflected my mood rather perfectly.
Lucy - either in an effort to keep from interrupting my thoughts, or rather, out of natural habit - set a plate of toast in front of me so quietly and gently that on any other day it wouldn't have disturbed me.

Unfortunately, today was not any other day. It was the day that marked three months since we left Narnia. As I remembered, it was less of a voluntary goodbye, and more like a banishment. Perhaps only I felt this way; Lucy was at least showing signs of moving on.

I heaved a hard and heavy sigh.

"Seems like someone's a bit miffed today."

"I'm not miffed." I argued, with an unintended agitated tone.

"Sure, Ed."

I stared at the toast for a few moments. I did not have an appetite this morning.

"It's been three months, Lu." I said as she looked up at me, forgetting about the butter and jam she was searching for in the icebox. "That's three and ninety days."

Lucy glanced down at the floor, and then peered back onto the shelves. "I know."

"I still expect in the mornings to wake up there. Did you know that?" She paused again, but with butter and jam in her hands this time. "I can't help but hope Aslan lied to us." She shut the icebox door.

"He wouldn't do that, Ed. You know that." I could tell she tried to be as comforting as possible, but there was an edge of apprehension in her voice.

"Yeah." I moaned. "But I wish he would have. I'd be much more optimistic."

It was silent again for a minute or two. Lucy sat down next to me and prepared her toast while I picked at mine. She brought her slice halfway to her mouth, hesitated, and set it back down on her plate.

"Ed, it isn't really about us, is it? I think it's time we both accept that we live here now, permanently."

"Lucy, I was a king once!" I said in astonishment, "And you were a queen. You can't just let that go, can you?"

She paused, and for a moment I thought I witnessed a glimmer of dampness in her soft blue eyes.

"I have to, Ed. There's no use clinging to the past. Yes, I miss it dearly. Not just the royalty, but Narnia itself. We must always remember and remind ourselves to remember—we cannot forget how blessed we are to have seen what we have seen and to have done what we have done. But we cannot hold onto the past so hard that it becomes bitter in our grasp. All things come and go at their rightful place in time, and we cannot control it."

As she spoke, her eyes continued to fill with moisture, but she didn't shed a tear. Not in front of me. I knew she cried, though; late at night, when she thought I was asleep in the bedroom next door to hers, I could hear a few muffled groans every now and then. I caught myself tearing up every know and then, but more often I just threw little temper tantrums, as Lucy liked to call them. Perhaps Lucy was smart to try to conceal her emotions about the separation. She had to be strong about it because I obviously wasn't coping with the situation very well. I didn't really want to.

I took a sip of the tea that was unexpectedly sitting next to my plate. It was dull to me - nothing like the sweet taste of Narnian tea. And it was cold.

Maybe I was a bit miffed.

"I still don't understand why we were kicked out."

"Ed, we weren't kicked out." Lucy frowned as she stood up to go wash her empty plate, "We've talked of this a million times. It's for our own good."

"I know, I know." I looked down at my toast. "But for some reason, I just can't believe that he would keep us away."

"It's for our own good, Ed," she repeated as she leaned over the sink and turned on the water. I leaned back in my chair and quickly contemplated whether it was worth the risk to pursue the conversation anymore. But what good would it have done? We had been over it countless times. Maybe she's right, I thought, maybe I should let go. But I can't. I have to go back. I can't help but feel like my journeys in Narnia aren't over yet. If I could just see her one more time...

I didn't notice Lucy take my plate away. Nor did it come to my attention until much later that day that she had left the room. All I know is that the clouds grew gloomier and heavier that day, like my thoughts.

"Pardon? Did you say Lauren, as in Lauren Bacall?" The friendly girl next door asked me as I introduced myself. Her British accent was heavy, but despite my dread of moving to Finchley, I actually liked it.

"No. I said Lorien."

"Well, what an unusual name." She smiled, "I like it. It's better than my boring old name. I'm Helen, by the way. Helen Smith."

"Lorien Townsell." I smiled back as we shook hands.

"How old are you, Lorien?" She asked after a moment. She seemed the sort of girl who had no trouble carrying on a conversation.

"Sixteen. And you?"

"I just turned fifteen last month. I was actually with some family friends in London for my birthday. I stayed there for a few weeks, which is why I didn't come welcome you to the neighborhood earlier. Do you like it here?"

"Oh, it's fine." I tried to sound pleased, but I missed America. I missed my town, my house, my friends, my opportunity. Everything here seemed so strange and different to me, but I didn't want to complain about it. I couldn't. My father was stationed here, and we had to do our part in the war.

"Well I'm sure it's much different than America." Helen stated, trying to show that she understood how I felt. I just nodded. I was never good at meeting new people, especially with the inevitable small talk it brought along.

"It's a bit chilly out here for a summer day, don't you agree?" Helen asked after a moment.

"Yes, quite." Really? I thought. We're talking about the weather?

"How about we have some tea?" Helen smiled. "Would you like to come inside?"

This I hadn't expected, but I accepted the invitation. Perhaps meeting Helen was a good thing; better than sitting in the new house waiting for something to happen.

"My cousin might be coming over this afternoon at some point. You'd like her. She's quite a dear." With that I had no choice but to follow Helen into her home, which was—very similar to my current residence—small and quaint.

Soon after Helen put the kettle on the stove, a knock came at the door.

"Do you mind answering that, Lorien?" She asked while she put some cookies—or biscuits—on a plate.

"Not at all," I said as I walked from the parlor to the little entry hall. I turned the doorknob, completely unaware of the amazing surprise that awaited me on the other side.

"Queen Lucy?" I exclaimed as the door swung open.