The only thing stopping Linda from crying was the melody playing in her head. If you asked her what melody was playing, she could not tell you, it was a jumble of sounds, gentle guitar strings and the soft voice of a woman, possibly her mother.

    In front of her was her wooden desk, organised and empty and scrubbed clean, almost sparkling in the dimly lit office. Next to it on the floor in a wooden box was a small plant, a picture frame with a missing picture, and a pointy-looking flute.

    “I'm sorry, Linda,” A gruff voice said. “You know we can't let you take your badge, I am pushing my limit by letting you take that flute.”

    Who was she kidding, her mother was a terrible singer, it was probably a random woman she saw at the opera.

    “It's fine, Santander,” Linda said, in a sad and resigned voice. “I understand.”

    Santander was a tall man, not too wide, except his face, which looked almost like someone drew eyes and a mouth on a shovel. 

    “I’m glad you understand,” Santander said. “Now let's move along please, you know how busy our schedule is, roads to patrol and people to arrest.”

    He purposefully didn't add the last part, and beer to drink. Linda knew the motto of the road patrol well, but she was too mentally exhausted to say anything. Bending down, she picked up the small basket, hugged it close to her chest, and began moving.

    She felt like a dishwasher sponge, used for heavy-duty cleaning after a particularly nasty party, and then left to dry in the sun, without even bothering to clean it after use!

    Putting one foot after the other, she began moving, letting the rhythm in her head guide her forward. She went past wooden desks, people pretending to work, or smoking thin cigars. She kept her head forward, not meeting anyone's eyes. 

Exiting the working area, the space opened up, stairs on each side winding down in a C shape, ending in the main hall. Taking the left stairs, Linda and Santander went down, one pair of steps out of sync and uncertain and the other strong and sure.

    People bustled about, smoking, running with papers, which is a fire hazard, Linda's mind added, or just sitting there and chatting. They greeted Santander with a sharp salute, and when they saw Linda, they suddenly remembered they had somewhere to go. Some of them gave her sad glances, but they said nothing.

    Santander stopped next to the wide archway and stood in a crisp stance. When Linda arrived next to him, he nodded sharply and lifted his left arm.

    “Goodbye Linda, I wish you the best,” He said and saluted.

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    Linda just nodded, not trusting her voice, and went outside. 

The sun was setting outside. She blinked her eyes a few times, adjusting to the light, or blinking the tears away, she was not sure. The square in front of the petrol stations was busy as always. People were moving about, messengers running about at high speeds, jumping over people's heads and doing complicated somersaults, nobody giving them any mind.

In the air above, people zipped about in flying carpets or running over invisible ropes only they could see. It was a mass, chaotic and beautiful mess, and it almost made Linda smile. Before any muscle could twitch in her cheeks, the crowd in front of her parted a bit and the last person she feared and hoped to see came into view.

    He was just like the day she met him, tall, handsome, with a mop of black hair falling on the side of his face, the blue patrol uniform fitting him like a glove, yet somehow looking messy at the same time.

    His eyes snapped in his direction, and Linda could swear that his perfect composure cracked for a second, but it might have been a trick of the lights. Long legs carried him forward, not stopping, just passing her with a minuscule nod.

    “Linda,” he said in his deep and clear voice.

He didn't even stop when he said this.

    Linda was not sure what happened at that moment. It was probably the last stretch of her sanity hanging its hat and going for a walk.

    “Linda?” She said, not recognising the fury in her voice, “You disappeared for two months, berated me in front of the whole station, smashed our oathstone into pieces, and left again, and all you have to say is Linda?!”

    That made him stop, turn his head and raise an eyebrow.

    “Yes.”

    Linda felt like screaming.

    “Why?! Why would you do something like that?!”

    “Because.”

    “Because what?”

    “I don't have time for this,” he said and started to turn.

    “Lenart Arankar,” Linda felt a bit of her power slip into her voice. “Everyone turned against me after you broke our oathstone, my coworkers stopped talking with me, my stuff began to disappear, my assignments got given to someone else, and a few days later, I got let off. I demand an explanation!”

    “You demand?” He raised another airborne. “Since when are you so bold?”

    Linda felt like she got gut-punched. All the flight left her, and she felt herself shrinking inwards, shoulders drooping.

    “I thought so,” he said, sounding disappointed. “You always give up so easily. I'm not sure what I even saw in you.”

    He turned around and left, entering the building. Linda felt frozen, empty, a popped balloon. Where did her boldness come from? She knew exactly where it was coming from, but she liked to pretend that it did not exist. She had no idea what would happen if she let it out.

    She looked down at her hands and she saw them trembling. What's the point? Why is she feeling like this? It's not the first time people don't tell her what's happening, the first time she is denied closure, and answers, not the first time when the universe slapped her without rhyme and reason, and she is left helpless, hopeless, just standing there, unable to do nothing about it.

    She looked at her fingers and slowly closed them one by one, her surprisingly thick nails digging into her palms. Her arms began trembling harder, and she began pushing her nail into her palm, increasing the pressure to a painful level, making her head throb.

    “Linda!” A deep feminine voice said, coming from right in front of her. “Are you okay?” She felt arms wrap around her waist. “Linda,” The voice said again, this time softer and full of emotion.” You okay?”

Linda said nothing. She felt her body sagging and began crying.