From the station roof, the road inland was a thin grey line between the hills. Wren had been walking the wrong way for most of the morning.
They tried to be annoyed about it. They couldn’t quite manage.
Wren
How far?
Iris
A day, if you’re sensible about it.
Are you sensible about things?
Wren
I came to the coast to look for a house.
Iris
Right. A day and a half.
Wren checked their pockets. One shell. One note. The key they had brought for a door that wasn’t there.
They almost left the key on the desk. Then they took it anyway. It was small. There was room.
Wren
I’m leaving now.
Iris
I’ll keep the channel open. There are a few dead patches beyond the hill. Keep walking if you lose me.
Wren
And you’ll come back?
Iris
When the signal does.
Wren turned their back on the sea.
It was easier with someone talking.
Iris
So. The kitchen door.
Wren
What about it?
Iris
You never finished telling me.
Wren stepped onto the road. The radio was warm in their hand.
Wren
It was green.
A terrible green. My mother loved it.
End.