So let go your ropes and your tethers, let go your ties Who: Mafalda Hopkirk (Narrative). Where: Her office. What: Contemplating the meaning of life. You know. The usual. When: That point in time when you’re left alone with your thoughts Ratings: Low because I already did porn right away so let’s mix things up Prompts: Predawn, A broken quill,
Everyone had gone home long before Mafalda had looked up from her stacks of rolled parchment waiting to signed and owled off. Though it wasn’t quite accurate to say the entire building was abandoned (as it most likely was not), there was a lingering sense of desertion through the quiet hallways. So silent was it all that even the light scratching of her quill against the parchment seemed loud, muffled only by her breathing.
Mafalda paid little mind to these things. This was what she was best at, working so late into the evenings that it seemed as though she was completely alone in the Ministry. Granted, she couldn’t say she especially enjoyed being alone in the office, but she had already reasoned it was better than the alternative. The alternative was going back to an empty home full of memories. And that was the very last thing she wanted to do.
That said, what she wanted didn’t really matter to her body. She’d lost track of the time, and now the words on the parchment before her were beginning to blur together. Mafalda leaned back slightly and brought a hand up to pinch at the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes tightly and letting out a deep breath. She was exhausted, she knew that. Eventually, she’d have to go home, she knew that too.
But she couldn’t, could she? It had been months since She had left -- and, God, she couldn’t even think of her name anymore without that cold weight of guilt settling in her gut. Logically, she knew it had been for the best. They weren’t working. They hadn’t been working for ages. Mafalda hadn’t been brave enough to be the one to end it. She’d been such a damn coward, always running to the office instead of dealing with their problems.
Just like she was doing now, right? What a fucking coward she was.
The sound of a quill snapping ripped her away from her thoughts. Her mind came to a halt while she stared down blankly at the mess of black ink beginning to spread across the otherwise pristine yellow parchment. After several deafening heartbeats, she unceremoniously picked up her wand and removed the spilled ink effortlessly. But as she turned her wand toward the snapped quill, she paused. She held it in her hand, the end dangling limply over the edge of her palm. Her lips thinned before she leaned over and dropped it into the bin next to her desk.
Her gaze drifted toward the window, catching the bits of light beginning to creep in. It was close to dawn from the looks of it, and she gave a slight frown. She couldn’t keep doing this, she knew that. But she couldn’t go home just yet, she knew that too. And maybe, just maybe, if she kept writing letters and signing notices written by secretaries and interns, all of her efforts would not have been in vain.