To Whom It May Concern

“Some letters are easier to send to another world than to the person next to you.”

"Gee, you were quick," I said when Luke walked into the living room, now wearing a fresh pair of jeans and another t-shirt. He looked cleaner, calmer—more like himself again—but the tension still clung to him like a shadow.

"Do you want to see this Portal or not?" Luke asked, his tone brisk and to the point. He held the small device in the palm of his hand—the one I’d come to recognise as the trigger to everything extraordinary. That innocuous little object, no bigger than a garage remote, had unravelled everything I thought I knew about the world.

Despite having already witnessed the activation once before, I couldn’t suppress a small gasp as Luke pointed the device at the living room wall. The hum it emitted was faint, almost imperceptible, but it carried weight—like the air itself paused to hold its breath. A small ball of energy shot from the device’s tip and struck the wall with a pulse. In a heartbeat, the surface rippled and bloomed into a vortex of vibrant colour. Waves of green and gold clashed with brilliant blues and deep purples, each swirl dancing and colliding like liquid fire.

"It's so pretty," Beatrix murmured, her tone soft with awe, her wine glass frozen mid-air. Her eyes reflected the colours like stained glass, wide with wonder. She finally turned her gaze from the display, as if it physically pained her to look away. The Portal was beautiful, yes—but it was also terrifying. A thing of such exquisite mystery should never have felt so close, so accessible.

"Take this for me," Beatrix called out suddenly, snapping the quiet reverence with a playful glint in her voice. She tossed a cushion in Luke's direction, the motion so casual, so mundane—so Beatrix.

I gasped as the cushion, meant to land harmlessly in Luke’s hands, barely brushed his fingers before being sucked into the swirl of colour. It disappeared without a trace, as if the fabric had been swallowed whole by the very air.

"Shit," Beatrix whispered, now entirely transfixed. Her posture shifted; she leaned forward, as if half-expecting to see the cushion come back out. "That's incredible."

I raised the wine bottle to my lips and took another slow swig, the taste now as familiar as the feelings I was trying to smother. Confusion. Fear. A strange excitement I didn’t quite want to admit.

"I have another idea," Luke announced, cutting through the silence again. He crossed the room and began gathering Duke and Henri's small beds and their box of soft toys—things that still carried the warm imprint of their little bodies. It was such an oddly tender act, seeing him gently tuck the toys into the box like he was sending the dogs away to boarding school, not into another dimension.

"Good idea," Beatrix nodded, apparently still caught in a childlike daze.

"Oh yeah," I added, trying to sound casual as I gripped the neck of the bottle. Then, balancing it awkwardly in the crook of my arm, I began rummaging through my handbag with one hand, finally pulling out the envelope—the one I’d folded and refolded half a dozen times this morning.

"Can you give this to Jamie for me?" I asked, placing the envelope gently in the box with the toys, as if doing so would ensure it arrived more safely.

"What's this?" Luke asked, eyeing the envelope with mild curiosity.

I paused. There was a risk, of course—he might open it, read it. But I had to take that chance. Something in me needed to believe the message would reach Jamie, that he would know I was still trying to connect with him. "It's a letter for Jamie," I said at last, my voice betraying the hope I was too tired to hide.

"You wrote him a letter?" Beatrix turned to me, her eyebrow arched, tone leaning toward mockery.

"Yeah, well, I figured I can't exactly talk to him, can I?" I snapped, more defensive than I meant to be. The words stung as they came out, but I didn’t take them back.

"Oh, yeah. I see your point," Beatrix said after a moment, nodding slowly. Her voice softened, and she didn’t press the matter further.

Luke gave us a final glance, his expression unreadable, then turned back to the Portal. Without hesitation, he stepped into the vibrant shimmer, the box tucked under one arm. His figure dissolved instantly into the glowing veil, gone again like he’d never existed in the room at all.

Beatrix and I remained on the couch, clutching our glasses, surrounded by wine bottles, secrets, and silence. Outside the world ticked on, unchanged, while inside, ours had already split wide open.