Afterwards, we curled up in my dark red leather armchair by the window, and Artemis laid her head on my naked chest, her short blonde hair feathering out on my shoulder. We slept for a few hours, lost in an aptitude which is so rare for others to find in this world. We weren’t amongst the others; from the start, we had had unique origins which weren’t forgotten or overlooked. We could afford to indulge in sleep and not worry about what may happen next; though in hindsight, we should have stayed awake and cherished the last few hours we had been given, or better yet, I would have convinced Artemis not to go. I would have been selfish for both our sakes; I wouldn’t be writing this now with a well of regret if I had forbade her from boarding the ferry. Still, we were ignorant in what was to be, and didn’t give a second thought about drifting away. We were to learn that in less than forty-eight hours that our fortune was soon to be expended and lost. I was to get one of my last postcards from Artemis not too long after, and be left to mend a torn dress which wouldn’t ever be worn again, each pointless stitch a last labour of love.