It was the first of June. The prairie birds sang, but everything inside the cottage was still. Maddie sat up on the edge of her bed feeling the floorboards, cool beneath her bare feet. She immediately reached for the tin box she kept under her bed, the lid of which clattered to the floor. She rummaged through the packets of seeds in the box hoping to find one that read “plums”. To her disappointment, most of the packets were empty.

At first, it was nice, living alone. Maddie used to like the silence. But soon, she stopped talking to people entirely, and the emptiness and silence consumed her. It made too much room in her head for pervasive thoughts to swarm, and now they never seemed to leave her side. Realizing she couldn’t run away from herself like she ran away from the posters, she turned to gardening, the only remedy that ever quieted her mind. Maddie was enthralled by nature, the cycle of life and death, the way a strong oak could grow from a small and fragile acorn. I don’t think she’d ever stayed in a place long enough to see any of her seeds sprout or flowers blossom, but I assume it was nice for her to know she left something good behind when she left.

But back to the present. Maddie left the empty seed tin on her bed, briskly clothed herself, and pushed open the front door of her cottage. The hinge squeaked. She had meant to oil it for about a week now, but somehow buying oil always slipped her mind when she went into town.

A gust of wind picked up Maddie’s hair and tossed it around. She took a moment to tuck it neatly under her hat, ensuring her curls wouldn’t be visible to strangers. She had heard that the posters were spreading to this part of town and didn’t want to leave behind the cottage just yet. She had grown quite fond of it over the past month. 

Under the portico, Maddie pulled on her boots. Their heels dully echoed against the raised platform, scaring away a flock of birds from the rows of hyacinth sprouts she had planted. As she walked down a path through the tall dewy grass, she noticed a sparrow lying motionless on the ground. She bent down and spent a curious amount of time inspecting it: lifting its wings with a twig, and watching the feathers unfold. She gently moved the bird from the path into the steppe grass.

—

In the town square, Maddie went straight to a fruit cart piled high with plums: ripe and warm from the summer sun.

“Ya’ ‘seen the posters around town? There’s a delinquent on the loose.”

Maddie glanced up at the peddler, startled. But the blood suddenly drained from her face for another reason. He doesn’t know. Just keep breathing, just act surprised, you’ve done this before.

“Oh! A delinquent? I haven’t, I, I just got to town!” 

Her bodice which had felt so light and airy just a moment ago, now felt suffocating. Had she taken too long? Had he noticed anything? 

“What is it with all these delinquents on the loose? Where do they keep coming from?”

“It’s a gal’ this time! The posters are everywhere, you’re bound to see ‘em. She’s got long wavy hair’. Don’t worry, ‘won’t be hard to catch.”

Sweat beaded down her forehead. Thankfully the peddler wasn’t paying any attention to her. He was fumbling with some crates behind his fruit cart. Nevertheless, Maddie adjusted her hat, keeping her head down.

“Thank you! I’ll be careful.” She hurriedly grabbed a few more plums until her hands were full and handed them to the man. “Can I get these, please?” Her smile felt stuck on her face. It suddenly felt like a grimace, too fake to be anything reminiscent of a real smile. 

“Sure, that’ll be 10 cents.” He dropped the fruit into her cloth bag that she mechanically held open in front of herself. 

God, it was hard to keep her hands from shaking. Fumbling, Maddie pulled out a few coins and let them fall into the palm of his hand.

“Thank you, have a good day! And stay safe!” The cheer in her voice spilled out of her mouth. It felt like it was too much, too fake to be believable. It felt as though she was watching a distant, cheerful, carefree girl buy fruit, but that it wasn’t her.

“Yes, you take care.”

And just like that she was out of there. She had pulled this act so many times before. Then why did this time feel so different? Why could she still feel her heartbeat throbbing in her temples?

The bustle of the townspeople and the heat of the sun, still high in the sky, were making her dizzy. 

God how she didn’t want to leave her cottage behind. This was the first time she truly felt at home somewhere. She had grown so fond of it. Her hyacinths had finally sprouted. She was going to oil her front door and plant a plum tree near her window. She really thought this time could be different, that she had traveled far enough away, that people had forgotten about her. How could she be so naive? The crowds of people chattering and laughing spun around her. She felt like she was on a merry-go-round, spinning faster and faster and faster… She had to lean against something, someone, or she would fall.

Instead, Maddie bit into one of the plums.

Sweet red juice beaded down her arm. She stumbled. They will never know. It’s better that way. She took another bite and smiled, it will be my little secret. The juice trickled down into her white sleeve and onto the ground.

—

As she neared the cottage, she again saw the sparrow in the grass.

“Do your birdy friends ever wonder where you went?” she whispered. “People certainly wondered what happened when Oscar Bridgers went missing. Honestly, I’m not too sure why the officials made such a fuss of it. If it had been a girl that went missing they would have swept right over it. He was a creep who used to follow me around. I told him to stay away, but he…” her voice trailed off. She paused.

“Well, there wasn’t much left for me to do… So, on a lovely warm afternoon in June, much like this one, Oscar Bridgers disappeared, and then very shortly, so did I. I’m not sure I regret that day. Sometimes I wish I had found a better time to do it, or found a better way to cover it up, but it had to be done, it had to end.”

Maddie dug a hole in the soil with her hands, placed the plum pit covered in crimson juice inside, carefully placed the sparrow in after it, and meticulously covered both with earth. 

“Now you rest. Maybe someday I will too,” she whispered. Her voice didn’t quiver.

Maddie stood up and glanced at the neat rows of hyacinth sprouts she had planted just a month earlier, a tear slipping down her cheek. Briskly she made her way inside the cottage. Sunlight shone in through the small windows, playing with dust particles in the air. Maddie gazed out the window, entranced by it. The birds outside paused their chirping for a second, but soon the moment faded and Maddie grabbed her suitcase –  always packed and ready at the front door – and left. The front door was unlocked when I got there, still unoiled, the hyacinths already blooming. But Maddie was gone and so were her plums. And somewhere, it was June.