Travelling Alone
Waves, transparent and weightless. Coiling and curling beneath her.
For an object that was barely tangible, Mary sat upon the cloud with little issue. Ankles crossed, even while alone. One could not forget manners; being in the skies was no exception.
It could be lonesome. Even with a babbling parrot.
She usually enjoyed the silent journey, the quiet before the storm. There was rarely any time for peace once she found herself with a new family.
Her thumb tapped against the back of her other hand, one resting atop the other. Mary had more to contemplate than where she was going. Where she had been interested her more.
The wind had brought her back to London, to her home. To her friends and family.
Those weeks had been passed in ardent happiness. It was always a wonderful day when she saw the cheery smile of a certain friend. Not that she couldn't feel that joy without him; Mary was as culpable of becoming home-sick as anyone.
With a click of her fingers, the latch of her bag opened and a folded piece of paper found its way into her hands. Crinkled at the edges and worn across the folded lines. It had been handled many times; it was loved.
Eyes scanned the words, as if she hadn't learnt them by heart. The scrawl of her name in his handwriting, words that could not always be said aloud. She adored it. She adored him.
Don't wait to come back to me, Mary Mine.
Although she was alone, she answered his plea anyway.
"I won't."
The cloud drifted slowly. Time passed differently here. She glanced upward, her eyes glistening as if she saw something there. Other than the endless sky.
London was near.