try to immagine yourself in that position…
The letter
I hold onto the envelope using the tips of my fine fingers. The cold winter winds chill them one by one.
I think to myself one last time - should I let go? But before I can make any sudden decision, I feel a slight bump up against my arm and shoulder.
“Oh! I’m so sorry ma’am!” said a young male voice from behind me. He must have bumped into me by accident.
Before I can take a moment to reply to him, I notice the envelope is gone. It has escaped my finger tips into the dark hollow mailbox.
I turn to the young boy and with a warm smile, mutter beneith my breath “It’s okay. It was meant to be.”
As I turn around and walk away awaiting for your respond to my letter from this moment on.
