The air was frisk and chilly, almost like how it was during the last time of their stay together. Miss Chaisson sat in her lab apartment, the little old one which the Golden Union had ambushed her in, and  watched the neighbours' cat play with the packet the owner had intentionally thrown out, also smiling at the animal. Miss Chaisson chuckled with amusement. It had been so long since she was young, but she also slightly associated herself with the cat - an unattached soul, writhing and trying to catch the thing it had randomly decided to seemingly stake all its life worth onto. The cat's movements invoked many past memories all of a sudden, and she decided to take a walk around Chelsey Bay to clear her mind of all of them.

It was a wonder she still was able to walk. Only using her crutches, Miss Chaisson passed through the morning fog and didn't hide her pale wrinkled face whenever the cold gales hit it. She was in a good mood, despite the arthritis pains in her right hand, and took only 4 meds a day, despite her being 91. Life was good. 

Miss Chaisson came to the bay's border fence, and looked over at the sea. She felt some kind of deja vu, some kind of event that had already happened there, on the border of that exact same sea. She remembered it quite faintly, but somehow, the little details stood out so evidently in her head, like the half-wet crumpled silk sleeve of her white dress which she had worn even to that day; the glimmer in Meddles’ eyes as the trapdoor closed and the submarine was engrossed in moody water; Meddles… Oh. She hadn’t thought about him for so long. As her hair flayed, a slave to the windy weather, she remembered their adventures together. He was nothing but a ghost to her now, of course, but to her mind’s eye, he had just joined her in her spontaneously scheduled walk. She remembered him fondly. She knew he wished nothing but the best for her, and she felt strong in her reserve to continue on… Continue on doing what? Living she would do anyway. Being happy - she knew a lot of little things she could be happy over. Then what? What would she do? What could she do to give him joy, when he wasn’t with her? 

“I should call Led,” she whispered, and dialed the middle-aged physicist’s number with her mind-seizing sensors fixated on both sides of her forehead. She waited. At first, there was no Internet connection - an old term, she knew that, but she was old. Then, it finally started to ring, and the world became blurry. Her hand trembled, the side of her lips twitched. She looked straight above, at the baby blue sky.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

It never stopped ringing.

But it rang!

***

On little hills in North Province,

A soft wind there, the grass elsewhere

A couple ran, light on their feet

They chased the sun until they meet

And stumble, falling to the ground

In there they find their newborn love.

Their faces rosy, they go 'gain

To find another witcher's den

And just as dark becomes emit

They run away, off to the lit -

The sky, the grass blades, and the Sun

Peaceful it was, so soft, serene

Quiescence scattered by the wind

They loved each other, never still

The sapphire-gray

Became a-lit.

On little hills in North Province

                                                                    Thank you for reading "The Castaway of Atlantis".