CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

|•| ANDRÉ BAUDELAIRE |•|

The absorption of the sun by the horizon unfurled a splash of red, orange, and yellow on the face of the earth. The blend bestowed a golden hue on the woods, indicating that it was already dusk.

I was plagued by an intense separation anxiety that made me yearn for when I could get to be with her again.

Left to me, I wanted to keep her all to myself, in a place where only I could have access to her at any time I wanted. Earlier, she didn't have to tell me before I knew how crestfallen she was that I had to leave.

But I made a promise to her—one I intend to keep—that I was going to come back.

These past few days without her before we reconciled felt like an eternity where I had to watch myself alienate from humanity. She kept me sane, just as much as she accelerated my pulse.

She was a drug, an intoxicating addiction.

She was a pesky little inconvenience that I was beginning to embrace. She was the closest thing to redemption I had felt in two centuries becaus