A Butterfly’s Migration: Chapter 1 Part 3

London, United Kingdoms

“I apologize, I’m just having the jitters. I’m not the most… social of people.”‌ I‌ rubbed the back of my neck with my palm, that nervous smile of mine crossing my lips again. Bartholomew watched me for a few seconds, before laughing.

“I‌ see, I‌ see.”‌

“I’ll calm down the longer we’re on this trip, I‌ believe.”

“And when confronted with something you’re enthusiastic about, it should be a piece of cake, yes?” Bartholomew asked, and I nodded my agreement – my enthusiastic agreement, at that. He laughed again, and I‌ could already feel the nerves unraveling in my chest.

Before either of us were able to say anything more, however, a sharp whistle split the air, and Bartholomew all but jetted from his hovering position in his chair, over to the stove in the corner of his study. The entire room was seemingly designed to let someone live in it for an eternity, having a refrigerator, a stove and an oven, a rather comfortable looking couch – that could likely pull out into a bed…

The entire room just gave off this comforting and welcoming… vibe, I‌ suppose. Bartholomew was fussing about the stove-top, pulling off a teapot and pouring the hot water into two ceramic cups, resting a teabag in each, and then fluttering back over to me.

He offered one of the white ceramic cups, and I‌ carefully accepted it. Steam furled from the hot liquid, and I‌ knew the likelihood of me being able to drink it right now was highly unlikely. Bartholomew, however, was having no such trouble.

“‌Well then, we best be going as soon as possible, my boy.”‌ Bartholomew said, “There’s a chill in my bones, and I’ve already postponed this migration a bit too long.”‌ I‌ opened my mouth to apologize – as it was obviously my fault – but he interrupted me rather sharply, “And don’t go blaming yourself, either!‌ It was that procrastination thing that hit me.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as Bartholomew continued. “Anyway, about our trip!”‌ He set his cup down on the desk beside him, before clapping his hands together. “I‌ already have a few… detours planned that I‌ think you’ll quite enjoy.”‌‌ My eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Like what?”

Bartholomew held up a finger, “Don’t you even try prying, it’s going to be a little surprise.”‌ He responded, and I‌ leaned slightly closer, enthused.

“Well then,”‌ I‌ said, “Let’s get going.”

“Oh, finish your tea, first!”‌‌ Bartholomew protested, and I‌ couldn’t help but roll my eyes, settling back into the chair, lifting the cup to my lips. A careful sip was taken and then I‌ pulled it back rather quickly.

“Ah,”‌ I‌ said, “That… might take a while.”

“Good! I‌ can get to know you, then.”‌ The butterfly rubbed his palms together, before picking up his cup once more and taking another sip from it. “So, please, Mister William McCarthy, tell me your tale.”

Despite the fact that there wasn’t much to tell, I smiled and began the story of my simple life.

Soon, once my tea was done, we would begin the travels to the equator, as most butterflies took. It was always too cold for them to survive, and so they traveled to the warm tropics to remain in the heat.

This time, Bartholomew had requested that someone come with him, and… I was that lucky one. To travel with him, to learn about the areas he so often frequented, to get to know the butterfly that nearly nobody else did.

This was… going to be an interesting winter, I could just tell.
~~~
The End .. for now

Author – Stephany S

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