The Cards says to Let Go.

She looks at her future on the cards. They tell her to move on, to let go of the past, to accept change. She looks at the piece of paper, folded over, ink smudged, crumpled and yellowed.

Laundryroomboy.

Okay, she says. She will move on. She goes downstairs and passes a door. It whispers the name of her laundryroomboy. Could it be him? She walked pass, not knowing what to do. She wants to turn back, to see if it is him. But she cannot make her legs move backwards. There was too much at stake. What if he doesn't remember her, what if it wasn't him? What if... he wasn't the laundryroomboy she remembered, the one that burned his touch into her wrist, her ankle, where he touched her and she didn't flinch.

As she reaches the end of the doorway, she swears, she swears she hears the soft strumming of a guitar. She reaches for the door flashing 'EXIT' and leaves.


---


An hour later, she forces herself to walk back down the hallway. She tells herself, the door will be closed. It's no use. You missed your chance. But she walks down the doorway anyways. Just hope. A girl can hope. She reaches the door that whispered his name. It still does, but the door is closed. It is an echo of a whisper. She leans her head against the door, but it is gone. She leaves.


The cards tell her to let go. She should let go.