Short Stories

The Letter in The Mail

letteShe grabbed her glass of red wine and took a sip as she held the envelope in her hand, wondering what it could hold inside that she did not already know. She put down the glass and tore open the envelope to expose a scented collection of neatly folded papers. She smiled as she recalled the many times she had been impressed by that perfume. She was anxious to start reading it, somehow anticipating its contents. She unfolded the letter; the hand-writing was neat and elegant, and it made her grin.

“My Dearest;
No; this is not a hand-written love letter like the ones in the days of Romeo and Juliet. Nor is it an attempt to impress you or woo you by being different from and more creative than everyone else you have ever met, through the ability to personalize what has now become obsolete and lifeless text messages and status updates. No; this is not any of the above.
What this is is me “talking” to you. This is me putting into words thoughts and emotions I could not have otherwise expressed. This is me giving you a glimpse into who I am; allowing you to uncover the enigma. Simply put, this is my side of the story.
Do not expect to be reading poetic –like prose describing how I feel for you, and how you were able – miraculously, I may add – to make me feel things I had come to believe I would never experience again. Do not expect to read paragraphs upon paragraphs of flirtation or coquetry or romance. Not at all. I will not tell you that you make me feel like a love-struck sixteen-year-old; nor will I reveal how envious I am of your bed as it gets to hold you each night, and of the sun that plants soft kisses on your cheeks every morning. I will most definitely not confess the powers your eyes have on me, or how your child-like laugh melts my heart… no, do not expect to read any of that.
So what will this letter reveal, if not all that was mentioned above? You once told me that I am a conundrum; that I was difficult to understand. But truth is, my dear, you are the encrypted text that – up till now – I am unable to decipher… and Lord knows I have tried, to no avail, to analyze and examine and scrutinize every word, every breath and every action of yours. But the more I do, the more perplexed I find myself. The more I see you, the more confusion befalls me.
And quite frankly, it has exhausted me – mentally and emotionally. So I have given up! I’ve given up trying to understand what it is you mean, or what message you are trying to convey underneath that pile of encryption…
Maybe I am being a little too dramatic; maybe you were open and straightforward with me. And maybe, just maybe, you speak a language I do not comprehend. Maybe that is what had drawn me to you in the first place: the mystery.. the adventure.. the unknown language that I wanted to master. Alas! Languages are not my strongest asset.
My dearest, the year is coming to an end, and so is this letter. I bid you farewell and bestow upon you many good wishes for the coming new year and the days after.
She grabbed her glass of red wine, took a sip and smiled. Her mission was accomplished.

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