That night, I didn’t sleep. I sat by the self-lighting fire and wrote my second tag: “The fear that I am fundamentally unlovable.” I placed it outside. The tag dissolved into moths that flew up the chimney.
I laughed, nervous. But I was tired. I wrote on the tag: “Guilt. Regret. The memory of her leaving.” I placed it outside my door and fell into a sleep deeper than death. eva notty bed and breakfast
“The pain? No,” she said. “The lesson? Yes. And Leo—don’t come back. The B&B doesn’t serve the same person twice.” That night, I didn’t sleep
For the first time in years, I had no baggage to check. humming a tune I didn’t recognize.
I looked back. Eva Notty was already wiping down the table, humming a tune I didn’t recognize.