Your Heathcliff presents,
Friday, the ninth of October
You are summoned, my love. Tonight you are expected on the moors, at a great table, and afterwards beside a fire. Tonight you leave Costa Mesa as Emily, and instead join your Heathcliff as Catherine.
The walk begins in
The hour has comeAsk your Heathcliff for the first word.
“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
Every good story on the moors begins outside. Take the hound (Athena) of the Heights (Bloom) and your Heathcliff (Me), and walk until the evening feels like it has started (She goes poop.)
Complete this checklist before you are allowed to return home.
Before you may enter the great house, you must prove you know the man who brought you. (He’s a Chad.) Eleven questions. Choose each answer yourself. The book will tell you, truthfully, whether you are right.
Close this book and put it away. Nothing on this page is as good as what is across the table from you. (Except the mash potatoes, they aren’t as good as him but FUCK they come close.)
Order whatever you like (Except anything over $15.) Tonight’s next page does not arrive on a screen. It arrives by hand. (Okay fine you can order something over $15.)
The letter arrives once the plates are cleared.
The feast is over, but no one goes back across the moors empty handed. There is one more stop before home.
You get to pick one of the three.
Sweet things first. Tragedy after.
Home. Candles lit, blankets claimed, dessert within reach. One small game for the evening, to play while the film runs.
Your Heathcliff is playing his own, different card on his phone. Tap a square when it happens on screen. First to five in a row chooses next week’s dessert.
Tap a square when it happens on screen. First to five in a row chooses next week’s dessert.
Emily,
The scavenger hunt you made me last Friday, through the aquarium, was one of the most amazing date nights of my life. So tonight I wrote you a novel. It seemed only fair.
Heathcliff got it wrong, you know. He loved like a storm and wrecked everything within reach. I would rather love you like tonight: a walk, a good dinner, something sweet, a blanket, and you beside me talking through all the best parts.
Thank you for being my favorite person to do nothing with, and everything with.
Next Friday is yours. I cannot wait to see what you do with it, sweet girl.
Your Heathcliff