The Long Tale No. 34 - The Right Words

The girl sat, alone, in the dark room, her ebony hair flowing down her shoulders like the ink on the page in front of her. She had been writing for hours but had eventually come to the conclusion that the right words would never come, no matter how much she were to write. The man would know what to do, she thought. He understood secrets like nobody else; the fear they caused and the terrible need for answers. But how could she ask him? She couldn't, not after what she had seen. No, surely the right words would come. Soon.