Dear Fin,

     During the long winter nights, there are plenty of days when I forget how the sun feels like. Sometimes I can feel the idea of the heat on my skin, warm and fresh and lingering, but how it actually feels like is lost on me.  You, Fin, are like my sun.

    So much time, yet not that long if you consider how short our time on earth really is, has passed since we last looked act other. Really looked at each other, I mean. And I'm starting to forget your smile. And the way yours eyes glittered. And how your nose scrunched when you're annoyed. And the way the muscles curved on your back . . .

    I'm starting to forget you. 

    And the scariest part is that I'm scared. I'm really scared of forgetting you. Because even though you left me with nothing, you gave me so much; I learned what is was like to have a life you liked, that you wanted. I want that again, even if I don't know where to find it.

    I just want that feeling of having Everything. And I say Everything with a capital because there's something about it that just seems like a title.

    Today, I got the slightest glimpse of Everything.

    I was with Ailsa. The older woman and I have spending more and more time together as we grow closer. She tells me of Gunther and her daughter and her grandchildren and I tell her of you and Etta and Bea. Today, we're in my apartment, regardless of the cold and the dark. I was showing her some of my secrets.

    There were so many pictures of you.  

    Sometimes we're in your room, with your piano or guitar, surrounded by posters of your favourite musicians. Sometimes, we're at my house, in the disarray of my mother's tidiness. And then there were others: us at our cafe (where you kissed me), us at school, us at the beach, us at the park.

    There was also lots of Etta.

    She was with us a lot. At the beach, at school, at the park. Never at the cafe, though, that would've just been awkward . . . sometimes; she was smiling next to me, or just you, or the both of us. But that enigmatic smile brightened many pictures. When I had lost you, losing her only worsened the blow. Why did she leave me?

    I even had a few pictures of Bea to show her, although they weren't painful. Because I haven't lost her.

    But that's when she was the picture. The one she wasn't supposed to see, the one no one was supposed to see. The one that might lead to Everything.

    It was a picture of my art.

    I hadn't really addressed it a lot in my letters, but you know more than anyone in the world that art is what I love. More specifically, painting. I would love to travel the world and paint everything that catches my eyes, but I have work and school (which is for art) and no money. Earth without 'art' would be 'eh,' anyways.

    The painting was one from my art room, which my father had built in our house (rather, he just tore down the fourth guest room and told me to do what I wanted with it) after I started therapy, which was of my father. He was sitting in his study, typing away at his laptop. I had no idea why I had painted it, but regardless, it was him.

    Ailsa was speechless.

    I grabbed it from her hands. "That one is, um . . . it's nothing, just forget about it."

    "No secrets," she told me, after another moment of silence. She added, "Did you paint this, my dear?"

    I blushed and only admitted the truth to her because she scolded me for keeping secrets. "Um, yeah."

    She blinked again, still utterly shocked. "Annalise, this is . . ."

    Silence.

    "My dear . . . this is the most beautiful painting I've ever seen in my life," she informed me. "I've never seen someone with so much potential, and yet, you're working in a cafe. You should be out painting the world!"

    I blushed again. "Th-thank you, but . . . really, you don't have to praise me like that, especially if you don't want to."

    Ailsa frowned. "My dear, I keep no secrets, you know that of me. I leave pictures of my husband around my apartment, for goodness sake. When I tell you that I believe you're talented, I mean it. This is amazing. Your talented isn't even comprehendible."

   My cheeks were on fire, I was not used to such praise. In fact, I had no praise, except from that of my father's. "Ailsa-"

    "When I get home, I'm going to call my grandson; he works for an art gallery, so I'm sure he'll be more than excited to hear about you. He loves local talent. Do you mind if I show him this picture?" She asked, her words leaving her lips at a rapid pace.

    I bit my lip. "Ailsa, you don't have to."

    She shook her head. "But I want to, my dear. This, what you do, is important; things like this should be shared with the world, talent like yours shouldn't be hidden. Annalise, you deserve the Everything you've searched for."

    I wanted to cry, but no tears would escape. "Thank you."

    "You can have Everything, my dear."

    And then, without another word, she returned looking at the pictures. It was like nothing had happened between us. Like she hadn't promised me that Everything might be achievable, possible. Her eyes landed on a picture of Bea and she smiled and I smiled at the moment passed, but the memory wasn't forgotten.

    Maybe I don't need you anymore . . . or these letters.

    Encounter Number Twenty-Five:

    My cheeks hurt. It was due to all the smiling I had been doing in the last hour, because of you. My stomach ached along with it, the pains that laughter brought; most medicines had a downside, anyways.

    Usually, after I returned home from therapy, I felt hurt. It was so challenging to talk about the worst moments in your life and then act like nothing has happened. So generally, after a session, I would return home and hide in my room where no one would bother me. In a sick sort of way, they understood.

    But then there was you.

     You picked me up, showering me with kisses once we're away from the prying eyes of the therapist. Although, it was futile, since I had already told him about our kiss at the cafe. Regardless, we sat in your car, and everything felt so right in that moment. Because it was just you and I and we're k

            i

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                and it felt so good.

     After a while you took me home and we stole kisses from each other in my room. Afterwards, we talked about school. And you told me about the type of music you'd like to make one day and I told you about the paintings I'd like to paint.

    End of Encounter Number Twenty-Five.

    It was times like that where I wondered why I ever felt pain, because when I was lying next to you, I felt invincible. And the way you kissed me and held my hand and kept your arms around me . . . I felt safe, like I had nothing to worry about.

    Sometimes, I wonder what it would've been like if I had never met you. I probably would be six feet under, suffocating from more than death, just another nameless suicide. And you . . . you would still be Finland Erickson.

    Sometimes, I wonder what it would've been like if you stayed. Just writing that is making me cry, the tears are smudging the words. I'm sorry that you'll probably never be able to read the end of this letter, if I do send it to you. And I'm sorry for It. I'm sorry that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm sorry when I shouldn't be sorry. I'm just . . . sorry.

    Sometimes, in winter, I wonder how the sun feels like.

        -Annalise

*

    Hey Reader!

    Chapter's Song: "Emmylou" by First Aid Kit. This song is about putting aside the hardships in life and enjoying a simple song, which relates to this chapter. Annalise is  heading towards her Everything, she is setting aside the hardships of losing Fin and enjoying the bliss that comes with life.

    Thanks for reading!

    Love Your Favorite Liar <3