Sal had tried to keep the windows closed in the room. The sun has not yet set but the color seeped of twilight save for the slit where the herb was planted. Her foot bare on the floorboards, promising it won’t be soiled by the dirt from the hallways.

Someone knocked at the door, so Sal immediately pushed a box at it. It kept on knocking, so she kept herself on the corner, as far as possible from the door.

“Child?” It was the long-haired caretaker.

Sal kept herself on the corner.

“I’m sorry.” The caretaker said.

Sal let herself come close by two steps. Curious words. The maid never apologized to her. She could do nothing wrong to her.

“I was desperate.”

Sal leaned in closer.

“Please don’t tell ‘Nay Rosa or anyone else about it.” She pleaded.

Always keep quiet. Never raise your voice. Always do what you are told. Behave. Nothing different from that. “I shall.” At Sal’s reply, the caretaker left.

Her statement was reasonable. After all, telling on her would be trouble. After all, that caretaker is not mistaken. How long will she have to stay here?

Sal buckled at her knees after the caretaker left. She can’t bear to remove the obstacle from the door even after she has left. She shook her head and laid on the floor. Sal stumbled on the letter peeking out of Lea’s basket. And against common manners and polite etiquette, Sal pried it open.

Good Day, Sgr:

The North branch has been closed, as you requested. The workers have all been informed of the changes and their last salary received. The money sent was also enough to allow them to resettle. Your servant implored thm to start anew and not to use their previous connection to you for leverage.

The paper was crumpled. No seal adorned the envelope even and the corners have frayed a bit. The handwriting was a bit crude cursive, but the words can only come from a Mercantile.

Your servant respects your wishes and it may take some time for me to do the final arrangements for the closure. It is my wish to be in your service still, as my token of gratitude.

Though I wholly respect your wishes.

 

Mi piu Alta Gratis, Signor

To: Sgr. Pablo Geasston Cuorre

Fro: Dario Lehmann

She chucked the letter across the room. It was fire. It was poison. Sal put her hand to her chest, trying to calm it from heaving so fast. Was someone watching her reading it? No one. No one knew of her knowing about the letter. Sal kept ample distance from the paper, as if touching it will blight her.

Up outside, a whiff of smoke entered the room. With trembling hands, Sal wrapped the letter in a cloth and rushed outside the left wing of the Hospicio where the smoke came from.

There, a small ember burned on the dried, blackened leaves. Sal held out the letter and laid it on the ground.

It was a sunset like this too when Sal had first disobeyed the Signor and neglected her veil. She panicked at seeing him come in from the gates. She could still remember the timbre of his voice.

“Salice!”

Sal flinched.

No one was there. She was alone, and yet in the fire, a vague image of the Signor seemed to appear to her, his back turned to her, sitting among the burning leaves.

Her hands seemed to burn too. Disappear.And yet the Signor’s spectre only loomed larger and larger until it was shadow that was too big that it burned her and swallowed her.

Sal withdrew her hand from the leaves for they kept on burning. The heat seemed to crawl unto her arms. Sal screeched and yelled at the sensation and the throbbing in her chest. And yet, the Signor stood there with his back turned, his body engulfed by fire yet unbroken.

Sal grasped the letter in her hand. The Signor was the villain, the bad person in every story that will be ultimately defeated by the hero. She gathered the cloth in her hand and prepared herself to throw the letter in the ember. And yet she waited for the Signor to look at her.

The heat shot up in her arms. The letter flew out of her hands out into the ground. Her hands rimmed red at the fingertips as a familiar voice shouted and flung curses at her.

Lea shook Sal by the shoulders, questioning.

“I was burning it. It was cursed.”

The woman left Sal in front of the pile of dead leaves. The ember had died in them and the sun has already set.

 

__________

 

The pain in Sal’s hands kept her awake from time to time that night. She kept them hidden in her dress, hoping it would ease the pain away but it only grew stronger as the night came.

Her senses became more roused at the sound of rustling.

Lea was at the bedside table running her hands across a paper. Sal kept herself awake and listened on.

“Look at what you did.” Lea mumbled.

Sal quickly closed her eyes.

“So, you’re awake, huh.” She laid out the letter flat on the table.

Common manners dictate that Sal should apologize, but common manners be damned. The paper is cursed. Wretched. Sal only regretted being too weak to finally dispose of it. Too weak to part with objects like the maid said.

“I thought you’d apologize.”

Sal kept silent.

“Quit staring, that’s creepy. Say something.”

It didn’t matter. Sal’s words do not matter. She would not believe her anyway. Sal is always the wrong one.

“I bet you must have cringed. My admirer writes better letters than one you’ll ever see. Well, when you get at the right age, you’ll see that-”

“Seventeen.” Sal shook her head. “Girls marry at seventeen.”

“Ohh.” The woman’s voice turned a higher pitch. “ I was only jesting.”

“But this letter is important to me. You see, it was from a really special guy.” Lea opened the lamp, lighting both of their faces.

The woman must be stupid. Nothing in that letter spells out any words from a lover. Sal only kept her head under the pillow, trying to block out Lea’s spiels.

“He was a really special man. I bet you’re too innocent about the”

“I’m seventeen years old.”

“Oh, so you’re jealous for not having received a letter like this?” “A beautiful woman.” Sal peeked out her head to see Lea flipping her braid, pleased at the statement “will let the words of the lover’s letter speak for itself of her desirability. ” Sal buried her face again in the pillow yet only pricking her hands.

Lea grabbed Sal’s hand and inspected it. Before long, she went out of the room and came back with a strange-looking leaf which she peeled open and rubbed the sticky gel from it into Sal’s fingertips. Neither of them spoke. All the while, Sal flinched from the contact.

“I used to hate it when he held my hand too.” Lea kept on. “ The sender of this letter I mean.”

Sal kept her eyes on the moon, on the shapes of the trees outside. And her ears on the sounds of the frogs. And yet, she knew she was listening with intent at Lea’s explanation. An explanation of a cursed object.

“I used to hate him. He was a bad man, I thought. If he was not there, I would not suffer. “ Lea’s voice broke.”But I was a brat.”

Sal kept her head down as the woman in front of her seemed to show signs of a melancholy.

“Drama aside, the letter must have been worded poorly.”

Sal wrenched her hand from her grasp. “The letter was eloquently written, although the handwriting was ugly. The Caligarian was better than I have expected but a child could do better. He hemmed and hawed in his statements. Not a straightforward one. A decent, but aptly forgettable letter.”

“ As expected of you, Signorina Cuorre.”

Sal reeled back. The woman sparkled black against the lamplight. Her shadow growing bigger.

Sal shielded herself with the mattress, wrapping it around herself.

The woman continued, “You were amazing earlier. I thought we would not be able to get home.” Her voice still and calm. HEr face was black to her. Her words opaque.

“Lying.” Sal thought aloud.

“Who cares. At least, you deciphered them for me. It can never be a love letter, but I was never sure even though I’ve looked at it for a hundred times.”

Sal held her the mattress close to her chest. “Don’t drive me away. Don’t tell on me.”

The woman approached, “As long as you help me find something, I will keep your secret.”