Harlow had never been in this part of the castle before. She wasn't much of an explore as a author who wrote about explorer. She was slowly getting back into the swing of things though her quill was still missing, and that was like a knife in the heart every time she thought about it. Her heeled Mary Janes made a nice click, click, click across the floor. Harlow never understood the appeal of heels but today it made it easier for her heart to beat now that it had a rhythm to follow.

Everyone kept telling her to just buy another quill and start writing again, but what did they know. They didn't create entire worlds in their head and then pour them out onto parchment. They didn't crack open their hearts for the whole world to see. It wasn't that easy to just replace the instrument she used to welcome the world into her heart.

Harlow didn't know she had started crying till she felt the wetness spreading across her chest. "Oh no," she whispered. She had been doing so well lately. She didn't want to fall back into that deep pit of depression again. She wasn't sure she would have the strength to crawl back out again. She sat down in one of the window seats spaced along the long corridor. Better to cry up here alone and by herself than during a class.