One morning, Lucy received an official letter, easy to tell because a big well-known profile was stamped over the adress. "Oh, shit!" she thought. Nothing good ever came from an official letter. When things went wrong she seemed to be bad.
And she got punished. Always.
She opened the letter with shaking hands. She was informed, very politely, she had been condemned to a one year plus one day exile. She had to wait, very calmly, until they arranged her departure.
When Rupert came in the afternoon, he found the butterfly net over the worn leather backpack in the middle of an unnaturally clean living-room. He froze. Lucy smiled, too brightly.
"I'm going on a trip" she said, taking some maps off the table and hiding them in the side pocket of the backpack.
"Can I say good bye?"
"With a kiss, please."
They kissed. She went. He saw her leaving.
It was a sad afternoon.
.
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