A Letter's Life

I felt your emotions as you wrote them, pure and heartfelt. Your cool breath sinks into my pores as it whispers across my surface. The ink took some time to dry before you could stuff me into the private walls of an envelope. It’s dark but breathable within its confines. The sound of the envelope roars in your anxious hands. You seem sure but fearful, but more sure than fearful. I like that you’re following your heart.

The tears that has stained my surface have dried as I’ve been passed from one hand to another. I am now stashed in a place where echoes and vibration is temporarily the story of my existence. The air is fresh but crisp. The words of my surface are beckoning to be read by the eyes for who they are meant, and understood by the heart of who requited your love.

It would have been better if you introduced me as priority mail but that time has passed. I am here with junk mail, tucked and unseen. The night’s rain brought thunder, I couldn’t get comfortable. I lay buried between the pages that may never get acknowledged. Fear has never been this present.

Was that a door that I heard? The rubbing of springs retracting traveled in the short distance, like music to my ears. “Yay!” At this point, I’ve gained some happiness. I can hear the crunch of someone’s shoes approaching. With each step, my anticipation rises as I am ready to be pulled from the depths of this snugged envelope.

I am ready to see the expression on the receiver’s face. I’m finally in, only a breadth away from being discovered. The wait is almost too overwhelming as his hands unknowingly caress the edges of the envelope. A slither of hope outshines my initial doubt but not for long.

“No! What are you doing?” I’m questioning his antics as he places me on a shelf, not really looking at what he’s holding. I am settled here with the rest of the mail, mainly newspapers. We’re in an era where newspapers are last on the list while technology is taking the lead. The internet is mainstream, a sought after entity.

I watch him walk away, unsure if he’d return. Days pass by as I sit like an antique collecting dust. I watch him go from sure to anxious as he regularly checks the mailbox. I know that he’s waiting for me although I’m already here. I am only the message sent by the messenger, you should know that time is of the essence. I’m hoping for a strong wind to blow, or maybe my absence will ignite his memory.

“Look at me!” I yell in the material of my mind. As time serves its purpose, a week would pass before he remembers the pieces of mail that he’d sat on this wretched shelf. His hands shuffle through us, discarding one piece after another until he lands on me. The intense shift in the atmosphere has not gone unnoticed. Time between us stood still as his eyes lit up. He swiftly tears the envelope from around me. It's no longer my shield, I’m gladly exposed.

His temperament is no longer at ease but impatient. He feels as though too much time has slipped through his fingers. He brings me closer to the light, ready to fully immerse himself into the secrets I hold. I lay bare in front of him, simply alluring. His eyes devour every word that deface my surface. Throaty and profound, his words spill from his mouth. Their end game is to meet up and run away. That’s a good idea. I’ll follow them wherever their journey leads them, as I am that misplaced letter that brought them together.