your love is my turning page

The book is warm when Horatio produces it from his coat, protected from the damp chill by the heat of his own body. It is well-loved, the pages creased from travel, the leather spine cracked by wear. Hamlet carried the journal with him always, from the beginning of their student days to the duel that took his last. Horatio gathered it from his clothes before Fortinbras' men carried the prince away for burial."I hope you do not think too ill of me perusing your thoughts, my lord," he tells the gravestone. "But closure was not readily found in- in the wake of your passing." The stone, and the spirit below the earth, do not answer.