Disclaimer: Ok, this may be a "duh" moment, but the only thing I own is the computer used to write this…no wait, it's my parents, I don't own even it

A/N: This is my first story. I'd love to get some constructive criticism, if at all possible. I might continue this. I don't know, probably. Unless everyone thinks it's really bad. If so, I won't post it.


Anabel looked at the dusty trunk in the attic. It was full of notebooks and newspaper clippings, among other things. She took out the first notebook she saw. It was one of those spiral notebooks used frequently at schools. The pages smelled slightly musty, but then again everything up here did.

The whole notebook was filled to the brim with somebody's neat cursive writing, taking up every inch of the page. It wasn't familiar handwriting. It started interestingly, to say the least.


I may be an idiot, and I may be a jerk but I don't break promises. If I promise to do something, I do it. And I promised Inga that I'd see her again. That's why I'm on a plane to Sweden. If only Dad could understand that I have to see her, I can't go back on my promise.

It has nothing to do with my reluctance to come home. My decision to follow Inga has nothing at all to do with my fear of going back to Crabapple Cove, and finding that while I've changed, the whole world has stayed the same.

Who am I kidding? I'm running away from home. I'm running away from that quiet little town because I'm scared of how much I've changed since I left it. I'm trying to delude myself into thinking that if I can't judge how much I've changed, if I don't acknowledge it, I won't have changed.

At least Dad understands. Unfolding the letter for the thousandth time, I read it to myself once again, tracing the creases the paper had gained from too much wear.

Hawkeye,

I understand that you've changed. Please understand that Crabapple Cove will always be open for you, as will my house. However, if you need to be out on your own for a while first, I understand.

I miss you, and would love to see you again

Dad

It was short and simple, which wasn't like him. We're both big on long letters full of details. This letter was different. It wasn't a letter at all as much as a permission slip. He was giving me permission to go off on my own. I had to do this. I had to find Inga. I couldn't break my promise. I had to go out into the world and find myself. Only then could I come home.