Max returned home, He hung his coat with care on the rack and tossed his hat on the hook by the door. He sat heavily in his favourite spot with a view across the county he called home. His mind a turmoil of feelings, thoughts, and dreams yet had. He opens his worn journal. A single word across the textured leather cover, “Amber”.

Journal - 17th June 1901 #

Dearest;

Today was a weird day. I decided that I wanted to tame a specific horse breed. One like I used to have back in the day. You’d remember it, fondly. It was my speckled Foxtrotter. I felt nostalgic for that horse and thought about getting another.

A friend mentioned that she had seen them previously in an area of the Grizzlies, so I set about searching. After several hours, it feels like, I gave up and headed back to Strawberry. I was just about to entirely throw the effort away when I ran into someone I had only briefly met before.

Her name is Jez. Jez Styles. She owns the stables in Strawberry. We got to talking, and I mentioned what I was looking for. Her eyes seemed to light up at the idea. She had mentioned that she had never seen that horse there, but would be willing to help look.

We headed back out, and, I don’t know… We just started talking, and joking, and sharing our stories. Something clicked. I could feel our energy change.

There was something in how she looked at me. An earnestness and a pureness in those piercing emerald eyes. Those eyes drew me to her. There also seems to be a profound sadness buried not so deep under the surface that I could not see. A loneliness that she carries with her. Some things unsaid, but we both knew we shared.

She has a disarming quality about her that makes it easy to talk to her.  We shared stories of our past. And of you and me. And of that fateful night. She listened to it all intently and without judgment. Her thoughtful responses and questions making me feel at ease and… heard.

She reminds me so much of you. And perhaps that scares me. The randomness of our meeting and the ease of which we knew each other. You share the same quick wit, and the same self reliances, if not for different reasons.

I think you would like her, quite a bit. You would be fast friends. The kind of friends that would spell trouble for me, I’m sure.

I do not know, as of yet, what this means. I am not sure if I am ready for what is to come.

Most of all, I am not sure that I am ready for what this means for you and I.

Max closes the journal and sets it carefully on the bookshelf. He looks towards the box of mementos, the only things left of his past life. He runs his fingers across the edge of the box, not daring to open it but knowing intimately every object nestled within. A sadness in his eyes seemed to waiver slightly, alongside it, new feelings he had not felt in ages.