XIX

XIX – After the Rain

Jin Sanscroft’s fingers ghosted through the fine velvet that the ribbon was made of as he admired it in the dim glow of the candlelight.

It was the shade of a rich, dark purple, glimmering so prettily as he turned it amongst his fingers this way and that–the color of royalty as one of his old tutors from the North had told him–soft and silky to the touch, rippling like molten lilac in his hand. He would have been so pleased at how well it turned out but…

He had missed Aria’s birthday.

But that’s okay, he thinks, trying to look on the bright side, looking over at the silver chest filled with books (mostly novels and collections of poetry he had bought that he knows she’ll like) sitting on the top of his bed in their home in the South, a fond smile tugging gently at the corner of his lips just at the thought of his friend.