The Exit Strategy

Packing took less than an hour. Elsie didn't have much. Just her sensible clothes, her rubber gloves, and the books she had brought.

She walked down the stairs. The manor felt huge and cold again.

Bram was nowhere to be seen.

She left the annulment papers on the podium in the Great Hall, unsigned. She couldn't bring herself to sign them yet.

She walked out the front door. The air was crisp and smelled of spring. The path to the village was clear.

She walked to the gate. She put her hand on the iron latch.

She should go. She should go back to a life where socks were normal-sized and plants didn't try to eat her.

She stopped.

"Bubbles," she whispered.

She had forgotten her sourdough starter.

It was an excuse. A flimsy, transparent excuse. But Elsie Pringle was a woman of action, even if that action was based on a lie.

She turned around and stomped back to the manor.

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