Brook! I haven’t seen you in a while. How's it been in the squid maid business? Got any new girlfriends?
Brook brushed away some of the discarded confetti and party streamers, then sat down on the clean part of the bench with a sigh.
The silence was deafening.
It wasn't a true silence, to be clear; her colleagues were busy cleaning up after the Grand Festival, called in from their usual duties to handle this particularly tough job. But the friendly chatter of maids hard at work could hardly compare to the marvelous cacophony of the crowds that had shaken that very ground just a few hours earlier, before the sun rose.
It had been amazing. It had been life-changing. It had been. And now, it wasn't.
And it likely never would again.
Tears drip-dropped onto the bench; slowly at first, then flowing freely.
There would be other places. Other festivals. Other reasons to celebrate, to cheer louder than anyone ever had before. It was just hard to imagine them right now—and that was okay. Some things couldn't be rushed. Some emotions had to be felt all the way through, like every bend of a stream, with the promise of one day reaching the ocean.
Brook wiped the tears from her cheeks. She got up, straightened out her apron, and waved to her colleagues. Her friends. Her loved ones.
She smiled as they approached, hand in hand.
The day was still young, and there was a lot of work to do. But she wasn't alone; she never would be again. She could trust herself. Trust those closest to her. Trust that they'd find their way to brighter days.
Together.
Tears welled up again in her eyes, but there was very little sadness in them. Instead, they were filled with relief; with a profound sense of letting go.
—Fin.
