SLOANE
Another day. Another adventure.
That was what I kept telling myself as I stood by the large glass window, staring out at the endless white stretch of Lapland. It felt strange to say “another day” when it had barely been twenty-four hours since I arrived, yet it felt longer. Not in a bad way. In a way that made time feel thick. Heavy. Like it had slowed down just for me.
Snowmobiling.
The northern lights.
The sleigh ride.
It all blurred together in my mind like something I’d read in one of Mira’s bedtime books.
I’d spent hours last night just staring up at the sky, watching green and violet lights move slowly above me. I’d lost track of time completely. Lost track of where I was.
I enjoyed every second of it.
But the joy came with a sharp ache.
Mira would have loved it here.
