Page 27 of Love & Letter Charms
R
Dear L,
I saw a garden today that made me think of you. Not because it was beautiful—though it was—but because someone had planted roses next to vegetables, and the roses looked personally offended by the proximity to carrots. I could practically hear them gossiping: “Can you believe we’reexpected to share soil with root vegetables? The absolute indignity!”
I wondered what your ever-blooming roses would think. Would they be horrified? Or would they see it as an opportunity to establish dominance over a new territory?
Missing your thoughts on ridiculous matters,
R
L,
I’ve realized I don’t actually know how to exist without your letters anymore. That’s terrifying, isn’t it? When did you become necessary to my daily functioning? When did ‘I should tell L about this’ become my first thought whenever something interesting happens?
Today alone, I’ve mentally composed five letters to you:
- One about my pegasus staring at his reflection in the water trough in what I can only describe as deep, brooding self-admiration
- Another about the mystery of why sandwiches always taste better when cut diagonally
- A complaint about buttons (why are there so many?)
- A question about whether you think fish get thirsty
- And this one, which is really just me saying I miss you
The last one seems to be the only one that matters.
Waiting (im)patiently,
R
Dear L,
Five days. Has it really only been five days? It feels like months.
I’ve started three different letters to you today and burned them all. They were all variations of ‘please write back’ dressed up in different words. This one will probably join them in thefire, but I’m writing it anyway because the alternative is this crushing silence.
Do you know what the worst part is? I can’t even be properly angry. I’m the one who broke our agreement. You wanted distance, safety, the protection of anonymity, and I asked for more. Of course you retreated. Of course you’re silent.
I only wish I knew if this was goodbye.
Foolishly yours,
R
L,
A full week. The rational part of my mind says I should stop writing. But rationality has never been my strongest quality, as you’ve probably noticed.
I’m sorry. Truly and deeply sorry for overstepping the careful boundaries we established. I did it because I was thinking of what I wanted rather than what you needed, and that was selfish of me.
If there’s any way we might find our way back to what we had before, please tell me. I would do anything. Absolutely anything.
R
L,
