This hotel room had creeping walls that closed in upon her when she could not sleep.

She did not like this place as much as the Inn, and Haydee began to gather her things in the quiet of pre-dawn, sleepless morning, to pack them. She would stay at the other Inn, where, at least, there was laughter mingling within the tears there.

She would go to the other Inn, because, that is where he returned to her. Even though it was not the man she had loved two years ago—he who had died—it was still the same face. And Haydee, as horrid as she knew it sounded, wished to be in a place where he had been.

It would explain why it took her so long to leave the beach. He had loved the ocean so much.

The broken harp with no strings" It was garbage. It was not the same harp that he had given her but it represented so many things right now that she kept it; she packed it carefully into a bag.

All the letters he had written her since his return" She kept them. She packed them into the same bag as the broken harp. As well as all the letters she had written to a dead man and to herself. Little lost Haydee, and her little lost words.

Monsieur, only Haydee can save Haydee.

Her own voice haunted her then, in the swallowing hiss of no-sound that filled her ears.

She wondered if she wanted to save herself.

If she was worth it.

If any of it was worth it.

The only one, of course, who could answer Haydee was ...Haydee. And she was so used to remaining silent that perhaps she would have to relearn how to answer herself.

She knew she was broken, and, when she shut the door to sling bags and suitcases behind her—she understood it and accepted it.

Now she only needed to find a way to glue these pieces back together.

She did what she only knew how to do.

She wrote him a reply in a letter that she left behind the bar, the initial G~ written in hurried strokes.

"Monsieur, I do not know if this letter will ever reach you. I do not know, at all, whether you have left upon your ship and if you are sailing within the stars as I leave this behind. It is not in the box I rented for your letters. I am too bitter now for that and perhaps I will always be. I have left it behind the bar tied with a piece of my hair so that you will not miss it. I am very angry, Monsieur. I am very, very angry. I wish that you would have come to me so that I could have some sort of closure. I wish that you had come to me so that I could look upon you and see for sure, for myself, this monster that you claim to be. I wish that you would have let me come to the decision on my own. Even if I looked at you and saw a Ghost, loved a Ghost—perhaps realizing that without a smart slap to the heart would have been better. Monsieur—I could have learned to love you, Monster or not. I was there....I was there for years and I watched you work...I knew what you could be, I knew.. I am so angry at you for leaving me behind a second time, for not trusting me to come to such a decision and perhaps as angry for the fact that you have put yourself through more pain at my behalf than anything. All of us are Monsters, Monsieur. Some prettier than others. I have lost all my stars, they were for him. I could have put flowers there for you. I am so very lost. -H"

Tho' I battled blind, Love is a fate resigned Memories mar my mind, Love, it is a fate resigned Over futile odds, And laughed at by the Gods And now the final frame, Love is a losing game-

"Monsieur,

It had been four days, seven hours and forty three minutes since I have seen you last.

I wonder if you have sailed in your ship amidst the stars very far. I wonder if you've simply moved to another strange little pocket within this place, too.

I wonder if you see the stars and you think of me as much as I have these past days.

Monsieur, I have a Shadow. I feel a little like Peter Pan, but more confused than ever.

He is quite adamant suddenly in being everywhere I am. He is a little bit like you, Monsieur but not truly. I do not know yet what to do with him, it is as if he is waiting for me to realize something. I am not sure what it is he wishes from me when I am like this—when I am still thinking of you and what you would say or do.

I think, I may have made a friend here. Her name is Piper. She is very enchanting, she was the one to pick up my dagger for me. You would have liked her very much I think, because she too, seems delicate but made out of steel when she needs to be.

I would like to let you know that I miss you. I will admit freely you were all that I was familiar with, all that I knew here, that your presense—as harsh as it could be, was a comfort.

Now that you are gone again, I feel like I have lost much ground I covered by myself. And perhaps I feel a little older.

I miss you. And I am still angry with you!

-H"

-Amy Winehouse, Love is a Losing Game

He had given her the heavens.

Not truly the real thing, but with a click of a button and a press of her fingertip, Haydee could turn on the flickering image brought forth by little metal disc and watch star fields, galaxies, planets spin.

Holograms; illusions of things once real. It suited her. She felt like a replica of what she once was or could be—and that night after retiring from the small group, Piper, Stitch, Noir—she contemplated many things in the light of that Hologram.

Including laughter, spoons, clay.

In the glow of false stars and lantern light, Haydee picked up her pen.

"Dear Monsieur,

It has been six days.

I will no longer record the minutes, seconds and heart beats since you have left me. It is not that I do not know them in that pocket of my heart and mind where I find you, where I find him—but that I do not think I should count those.

It is half way, oui" I will give you days and keep the seconds to myself, because in some ways I am greedy with your memory and do not wish to share it with anyone.

Last night there were only a thousand reminders of what I had, and what I could have had. This is down from a million.

But let us not talk about selfish Haydee anymore, let me tell you more of this place:

Madame Piper and Monsieur Stitch, have I told you of them already? I think I have. Madame Piper shapes the earth into many different things, pottery. She is most enchanting when a bit of it is smeared upon chin and she does not know it.

Monsieur Stitch I think, is very honest. To the point where he does not care anymore what he says. He and Madame Piper bug each other constantly. It is like family, non'

My shadow brought me a little disc which shows me the stars. I did not cry when he did this Monsieur. Are you not proud"

Madame Hodge seems preoccupied and I did not wish to presume. I do not yet know too much of her to write here, but she is sharp I think—like the northman I met with you here.

Welverin bought me hot chocolate and it was most kind of him. He is not from this place either, I think. I do not see as many of him as I do everyone else. Perhaps they think me one of these 'elves' because of my ears?

It has been six days, and while I have stopped myself from putting down the minutes, the seconds, the heart beats—I have whispered them to myself.

I have never been very good at being strong. But I will try.

Good day, Good morning, Good night to you, Monsieur, where ever you may be.

Some day, I hope this gets easier.

I'm still angry with you.

-H"

As always, this letter was placed with the rest. He had left her no address to send them to when he went. She touched the envelope fondly, thumbs and white fingers bird's wings across paper, then smoothed it as a mother would the brow of her child before getting up from her writing table.

She blew out the lantern light, but left the hologram of galaxies spinning to wink, flickering steadily in the night.

She had forgotten, entirely to get herself a bottle of ink last night the first time she'd traipsed down the stairs.

She did not forget the second time.

Cheeks seemed permenantly stained to high-color this late evening as she settled down in odd shifting gown at the writing table once again. Shaking away her sleeves from the paper to keep it from ink, Haydee began to write:

"Dear Monsieur,

It is now, officially more than a week since I have seen you. Please forgive me if it sounds dramatic but it feels like a small eternity. Not a large one, but a little bit of forever.

I miss you very much. Last night I dreamed of you and when I awoke to find myself here I was not very happy.

I pulled myself from my melancholy and my room to visit the world about me. I saw Welevrin this evening and he seemed to be having a most serious talk with a very enchanting lady.

Later, after I retired to my room and came back down for ink, there was my Shadow. It was most fortunate timing, as I had some how missed his presence looming over mine.

He was in a very fine mood, Monsieur. He told me that he had missed me, and later, that I was beautiful. Beautiful!

He says many things to me that confuses me very much. He says many things to me that make me feel as if there were moths circling candles within my belly, but they also make me feel very frightened, Monsieur. Very scared. I do not know why either emotion exists and I am not ready to think on it.

Had you asked me a week ago Monsieur, I would have told you that he was not a very patient man. That he was not the sort to wait for anyone or anything. And yet today' Today I would have told you that I think he is learning to do just that and prepared to do so for as long as it takes.

The question, Monsieur, is how many more years will you haunt my heart' Another two' Another ten" How long am I worth waiting for"

And what happens at the end of waiting" What does he see in me" What does it mean to not ache so much' Will I ever learn to stop mourning Edmond or you?

I am feeling very small this evening, and as if I have run from something.

I wish that you had taught me some things before you left. I miss you. I am still angry with you a little bit.

-H"

After a surprising haul of candies for Halloween and an even sweeter gift that evening, sightings of Haydee have been few and far between.

The few occasions she's come from her room or gone walking alone about the Marketplace or further, she has seemed thoughtful and distant.

Politely, she has refused all company recently. Be it the charming gentlemen Renely, Lady Piper, or the looming shadow that most usually followed behind her, Haydee has kept to herself.

Be my friend Hold me, wrap me up Unfold me I am small and needy Warm me up And breathe me-

This letter was not addressed to a man who would never read it, it was passed along with implicit instructions as to whom to deliver it to.

"Dear Monsieur,

I know that I said this evening I haven't written a letter in nearly a week, but you must forgive me. I am a creature of habit and perhaps always will be.

I write my letters because, some times I feel as if the secrets I spill come easier with ink and paper. Some say it is a coward's way to say things. I do not agree, Monsieur. I think that letters are the perfect noises in between the silences when one cannot see the other. The perfect chance to say the things we forget when crowds or emotions muddle speech. Do you not agree?

I am writing you because I wish to. Because I do not think, now, that all my other letters will ever be answered. Because, in all the time I have been here it has been you that ended up with the unfortunate task of stringing me back together. And that, Monsieur, you have become my rock in the storm that is myself.

It is odd for me to say such things, Monsieur. It has only been a handful of months and yet I feel like maybe I could smile for you.

You do not have to write to me, Monsieur. I do this because I want to. And because you are my Shadow.

-H"



-Breathe Me lyrics, by Sia

You moved like honey in my dream last night Yeah, some old fires were burning You came near to me and you endeared to me But you couldn't quite discern me

Does that scare you " I'll let you run away But your heart will not oblige you You'll remember me like a melody Yeah, I'll haunt the world inside you-

"Dear Monsieur,

It finally snowed a little bit. Two days ago a fine dusting of white fell from the heavens; Monsieur, to tell you the truth it seemed to me like a thin baby blanket, swaddling the world in cold comfort.

It melted of course. While fall is no longer digging her nails in deep, Winter cannot seem to wrest control from her grasp. I am sure that soon enough it will be able to. Christmas is coming, Monsieur. There must be snow for Christmas!

Ah, but, do you even know what Christmas is" I haven't asked, I do not even know if you celebrate the Giving of Thanks like some do, so I did not think to seek you for that holiday. I hope that you were not lonely on Giving of Thanks day; I hope you can forgive me for being a quiet woman who does not come about often.

I have started work you see, with an agency that will place me in some Lordling's home no doubt for work. While it is good that Monsieur G and Edmond has made sure that I want for nothing, living the idle life would drive me insane. I must do something. I must do something for myself that is by me.

I often look up to the stars and see you now. Though I know there is sadness within them, there is also hope.

-H"

-Slow like honey, Fiona Apple Lyrics

"Dearest Monsieur,

I am sure that you probably think that I have forgotten you! It has been a very long time since I have written to you, oui"

It is not that I have forgotten you at all, Monsieur, non, it is that I have grow up a little in some places and a lot in others since I have written you last. I have learned a great many things about myself, Monsieur. It is amazing, is it not, how we can know so little of our own soul let alone someone elses"

I do not know where you are, of course, my Count, I have not seen you nor heard from you in many months. I do not even know if my letters reach you but I send them. Please forgive me when I say truthfully that I do not send them just for you—there is something that is good in feeling when writing, is there not'

I do still think of you, almost everyday. But it is not with so much heart break now. It is with much affection and warmth that I remember all that you tried to do for me. I am so sorry I was so stubborn and that I preferred to wallow in my own sorrow than listen.

You should forgive me though, I admit that most of my thoughts are consumed by other shadows and Kata.

Do you remember my mentioning of Madame Piper? She is the one who rescued me that horrible night when our worlds went upside down. I have been remiss in my friendship with her in sending letters, but I have returned to find her quite well and in health. That too, has made me very happy.

I hope that where ever you are among the stars you too, are happy. Monsieur, I am sure there is someone out there who will make you feel what you have given to me.

-H"