Right outside the door was a little packet of dairy free chocolates, wrapped up carefully in a white handkerchief with a shiny black bow. The attached message had been hastily hole punched so that the ribbon could loop through, as if the two words within, “Thank You” , had been an afterthought.

{(Click here to read the entry this refers to.)

The morning after being thrown into the ocean, a now perfectly dry, healed, and rested Bill steps out to get the mail and finds a small bundle at his feet instead. He stops to pick it up, feeling through the fabric somethings small, waxy, and wrapped in plastic. His fingers find the ribbon and, by extension, the note, and he pauses to read the latter. When he does, he smiles. He doesn’t need to ask whether or not the chocolates inside are indeed dairy-free—she of course forgot to mention that—because he recognizes the hasty scrawl and just knows.

She’s a good friend when you get right down to it.}