PART ONE
The sound of sparrows chirping just outside her window roused the girl from her sleep moments before her alarm went off. Here Comes the Sun played its tune for a few seconds before she turned, tapping the end alarm button on the surface of her phone. Brown eyes gazed above at the slow turning ceiling fan. Friday. She should have felt the sweet relief of the final workweek day, but no. She felt...heavy, somehow. Her head drifted to the side and glanced at her calendar, a flimsy, pictureless thing on the corkboard by her face. April 1.
Oh.
She sat up, running a hand through her warm brown hair, and closed her eyes. 3 years. That explained it. She supposed her body knew it before she did, mourn-ready and sluggish in sorrow. She dragged herself out of bed and slipped on her flats, making her way to her bathroom. A hot shower might help.
An hour later and the girl emerged from her room, clothed and ready for the day. Her hair was pulled high into a ponytail, neat and proper, her clothing simple and understated. Two steps into the kitchen and her roommate welcomed her with a plate of chocolate chip pancakes. She managed a smile even as he looked at her, concerned.
"I know you don't celebrate it anymore, Keira, but I wanted to do something nice."
"Thanks, Adrian. I appreciate it."
She nodded to him, thanking him quietly and getting a few bites in. Her phone chimed, and she lifted it to check the incoming message.
\Don't worry about coming in, today. Anne said she'd cover your shift. We know it's a hard day and hope you're alright. Happy Birthday. Cheers, mgmt.**
She paused, glancing back up at him.
"No work today."
"Just as well... listen, Kee."
He said, awkwardly pausing.
"A package came in for you, today. It's from Xandra's mom. I didn't know if you wanted it, but it's by the door."
Ouch. It stung, hearing her name. Keira stood, bowed her head in thanks, and made her way to the foyer. There it was, a small, brown paper package with her name on it. Carefully, she lifted it from the table and brought it back to her room, ignoring the concerned look from Adrian's face.
It took her the better part of an hour to build up the courage to open the thing. Whatever was in there, it felt too real, like accepting the reality that Xandra was gone. They'd never found the body, but the proof had been substantial and there was enough biological evidence to assume what had happened. They'd almost caught the guy, too, only the smug bastard was just smart enough to get away with it. The injustice of the situation had never left her heart, and she promised herself never to give up. Some part of her still chose to believe that she was out there, somewhere, alive somehow, and she'd come back. Things would be the way they were, and her best friend would be home again, and today wouldn't be a day of mourning, but a day of celebration. After all, how often do you and your best friend share a birthday?
Capable fingers slid the tape from the bindings of the parcel, and let the paper fall from the package. She froze. A small, faded pink box remained in her hands, with a small note attached. Written in the neat, delicate cursive of Xandra's mother, the note read:
"I was clearing her room, trying to let her go, and I found this. I don't have any reason to keep it, but I know you and her had matching ones when you were kids, so I wanted you to have it. Please come by sometime. It would do us well to see you...there's a little of her spirit left in you, and we do miss you."
She let the note fall, setting the box on the ground and staring at it. Slowly, her eyes drifted to her closet, to the shelf above the open door, to the pastel blue wooden box in the back corner, just peeking above the storage organiser. The Let Go box. She'd forgotten.