Letters; the old ways not e-mails. The anxious wait every morning, the wait for that paper to slip under the door, or be found in the mail box when the neighborhood’s postman leaves. What would she say? would she answer all questions? ask for a gift? Say how much she loves me? No idea…. One must wait for the bloody letter to arrive.

Close the door, enter the bedroom, holding the letter. Should I open it, or keep it for a few hrs untouched then open her gently… Or just tear the envelope, rush to the bed.

Read each word, re-read sentences, touch the words, the ink, the invisible particles, inhale the scents, feel the paper…..


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