Attempts at a Thank You

Gwen double-checked the date.

January 21st.  She could barely believe it had been a week already since The End.

She'd moved in ten days before The End, nervous as anything, wondering how she'd be received.  But she still couldn't shake that cold feeling she felt.  It was harsh feeling, it rubbed her the wrong way.  There was the rant a few days later.  She wanted to voice sentiments that were probably shared by more than one "transfer," to see if anything would happen.

It was received much better than she'd origianally hoped.  Kudos came from her previous compatriots, advice from those already well-established.  Support was mutual from both sides.

Gwen stared at the blank page on her desk.  She really wanted to thank everyone who'd helped her out thus far, who'd taken her in, supported her.  But how could she?  No words could really describe the gratitude she felt towards these people, familiar or otherwise.  She wanted to come off as sincere, but not sappy.  Heartfelt, but not phoney.

She flopped back into her chair, at a complete loss for words.

"Darn you language," she cried to the air, "and your inability to express the inexpressable!"

Language.  She thought about it.  Wasn't it language that brought her to this point?  Wasn't it the use of words that drew her in to her previous community, and now this one?

It may not be perfect, but couldn't she try?

"I may not be able to express my gratitude spot-on perfectly," she said finally, picking up a pen, "but I can try.  I can only hope they all know how much they mean to me."

The End

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