Page 4 of Love & Letter Charms
No Longer Skeptical
P.S. I’m glad you are real.
My dear No Longer Skeptical,
I find myself disproportionately pleased by those five simple words—‘I’m glad you are real.’ It leaves me wondering whether you think of me at odd moments throughout your day, as I find myself thinking of you.
I imagine you’ll be discussing all of this with those ever-blooming roses you prefer over the company of people. No doubt they’ll be quite scandalized to hear you’re corresponding with a REAL gentleman orchestrating vegetable-themed chaos across the realm instead of merely enchanted paper.
Victoriously yours,
The Very Real Correspondent
Dear Very Real Correspondent,
I feel I must correct a misunderstanding. I never claimed to TALK to the roses—merely that I prefer their company to that of most people. Though now that you’ve suggested it, I believe I might try it. I imagine they are excellent listeners, and unlikecertain correspondents, they are unlikely to make remarks specifically designed to bring color to my cheeks.
If I WERE to discuss you with them (which I absolutely have not done and would never consider doing), I’m certain they would say you are a terrible influence.
Reproachfully yours,
The Rose Companion
Dear Definitely Talking to the Roses,
Ah, my remarks make you BLUSH, do they? That is dangerously endearing information to share. You realize, of course, that I must now slip something into every letter specifically designed to set your cheeks aflame?
Though you strike me as someone who blushes at everything. Compliments, embarrassment, strong breezes, letters from devastatingly charming correspondents …
Am I warm? (The answer is yes, you are definitely pink right now.)
Incorrigibly yours,
Devastatingly Charming
Dear Audaciously Presumptuous,
I do NOT blush at strong breezes. That’s absurd. I blush at perfectly reasonable things like … well, certainly not at letters, anyway.
Since you are so insistent, however, I feel compelled to tell you that I DID, in fact, attempt a conversation with the roses. They informed me—very solemnly—that you are unnecessarily provocative, prone to mischief, and in dire need of proper supervision.
I am inclined to agree with them.
With botanical disapproval,
The Rose Companion
Dear Co-Conspirator of the Roses,
Your roses sound like elderly chaperones. Do they also disapprove of uncovered ankles and dancing too close to one’s partner?
Not that you, of course, would ever be guilty of such shocking behavior. No, I picture you perfectly poised, proper to the last fingertip. Right now, you are sitting straight and elegant while reading this, perhaps smoothing your hair, most certainly blushing as your eyes move over this very sentence.
Go ahead, tell me I’m wrong. (But do it convincingly this time.)
Scandalously yours until the roses faint,
Your Devoted Tormentor
