The Paper Smuggler

It was a slow day, so to keep herself busy she decided to write. Under the grading sky, feeling the cold settle into her toes, she set off in search of paper. She didn’t think it would be hard to smuggle some out of one sort or another - they were at a school today after all.

She recognised the guard who was standing watch at one of the now empty classrooms - last week she’d procured him some specialty tea-leaves. She looked around to make sure they were alone, and signed a question. A curt nod from the guard and she slipped past him, in and out of the classroom in seconds, a smoke-stained notebook hidden under her jacket.

She found a spot: quiet, secluded, surrounded by trees with fiery leaves. She stared at the blank pages, head tilted, thinking. A small smile under the neutral expression she’d worn so well all day. What to write? She had no idea. None at all. But, already, a peace was settling in. No more panicked thoughts about time, about exhaustion, about food. No more uneasiness over the dropping temperatures or the hard days to come. No decisions to be made either, other than -

“What are you writing?”

She smiled.

“I don’t know yet.”