Seth is gone for about an hour by the time I peel myself from the bed, standing before the window. The sun is beginning to set and, again, takes out her paints and sweeps them across the sky. It's magical how the evenings twist and pulsate with vibrance—neon pink, orchid purple, tiger-lily orange. The dying light bathes me wistfully.
Eventually tearing myself from the window, I step outside into the hallway and listen for Seth in case I missed his arrival. I'm met with silence. To be certain I call downstairs and am met with no response. It really is just me here. I can do just about whatever I want.
But the only thing I want to do is search for my ring that Seth took and hid from me. I have a feeling it will be like looking for a needle in a haystack. This is a moderately large cabin
