The Letter Most Foul

He had not been expecting a letter. But here it sat on the desk. Tentatively he reached, stopping short of actually touching it.

He snatched his hand back, as though lashed by fire. He tried to screw up the courage from somewhere deep within. He would know what she had said. He would.

"No!" The expulsion of the word from his mouth came so fast he startled himself for a moment.

Jumping up, Tristan moved quickly toward the window and forced himself to stare out into the gloom of the early morning Georgetown fog. The city below, the canal, and the Potomac beyond, were obscured then revealed, as the fog thinned and thickened. There were glimpses of the occasional car or jogger passing along the thoroughfares. And the few brave birds that glided effortlessly, as though dancing to some unseen orchestra.

But Tristan saw none of it. So focused was he on not going back to his desk and reading the letter she had left, that he saw nothing.

"This is ridiculous," he finally admonished himself, the fear and anger and shame ebbing from him, his shoulders visibly sinking with the release of emotions. Turning back to the desk, he glided over in three graceful strides and lifted the envelope and its contents up. There was a temporary shock at the lightness of the communiqué in his hands. In his mind he'd half expected such a weighty letter to be heavier in reality.

Taking a deep breath, he gently slid a his finger along the edge of the flap and opened the object of his fear. He could feel the coolness of the paper and hear its gentle rustle as he unfolded the missive. He read.

"Dearest Tristan, I am so sorry. The shame I feel at what I have done to you cannot be easily dismissed, you must think me a monster. Doubly so. Not only have I injured you but I must hastily leave, as I cannot bear to face you."

Tears streamed from his eyes as his heart sank with those words. She would not be back. He could sense this. What was he to do? He was lost without her. Quite literally now. Absently, as he continued to read, his hand reached up to his neck, his fingers lightly tracing the reminder of their passion from the night before. And the lingering result of their unbridled embraces.

"I know you may never forgive me, though I wish that were not true. And I know you probably would deny it right now in any case. But I know how these things turn out. You would eventually come to completely despise me. And that, most of all, I could not take. You may not believe me, after what I have done, but I did love you . . . do love you. In my fashion. But for me and my kind our kind, this is just not the way."

Tristan's other hand crushed the envelope in his grasp as he read, but the letter he held gently, as a lover holds his paramour's chin.

"You will have many questions and many strange new feelings. I cannot answer them because I would be selfish in my replies. It is our way. But there are those who can help. I have written down the names of two such people here in the capitol. Go to them and no others. Tell them about me, about us. Leave nothing out. Ask your questions. Then decide what you would do then."

His mind was a whirl. She loved him, but didn't. She wanted to stay, but wouldn't. And now she was telling him to seek out strangers and go over intimate details with them. Why? Why would she do this to him. His fingers traced the red welts she had left him with after their night of what felt like endless passion.

Why would she do this to him?

He turned back to read the end of her letter, almost loathing to be done with it.

"No matter what you decide, no matter the path you decide to take, know that you will always be special to me. Take care, Tristan. I will miss you. Shannon."

Screwing his eyes tight and craning his neck outward, he howled out in forlorn agony.

Two floors below, Mary Elizabeth was about to step into the elevator and head out for her morning jog before going to work . The cry caught her and pierced her very soul. A frigid chill gripped her and a most primal fear took hold of her mind. Throwing herself into the corner of the elevator, her back to the walls, tears streamed freely. She would never be the same again, never feel safe again. That sound would forever haunt her dreams.