He didn't keep his promise. Her heart soared with joy when she recognized the writing on the envelope. She walked slowly into the house from the mailbox, caressing the letter, smiling at it, holding it close to her heart. Trying to will it to feel like him, to make her feel the thrill she did when he had touched her. It almost worked.
She opened it cautiously, prolonging the sweet agony of reading his words. "Hi, how are you? The trip was fine. Wish you would have come." He had begged her address from a mutual friend. No explanation of why he was writing except he missed her. He signed it Love.
They wrote back and forth, at first every few days, then once a month. Over the years the letters came less regularly and she stopped running to the mailbox. When he wrote that he was getting married, he signed the letter "With all my love."
And she smiled to herself in triumph while her heart was drowning in tears.
One of my readers complained that this was a girly story - Welllll, I am a girl. He said it didn't make sense. I can't help it. It's loosely based on a true story, and sometimes life doesn't make much sense.
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