LETTER I look outside. Morning light breaks through the trees. Mist rests low across the fields. Your letter waits on the table. … We walked into sunsets like they would never end. … I look outside. The lake catches every piece of light. Clouds drift slowly through forever. Your letter hasn’t moved. Neither have I. … Long nights by the fire. Stars above us. Silence between us. … I look outside. The sky burns red one last time. Leaves whisper through the evening. Your letter rests inside my hands. … I still hear your laughter carried by the wind. … Now I stand beside the lake. The smell of wet grass surrounds me. The fire burns quietly. Ashes rise into the evening air. Some things are meant to be forgotten. Some people never are.
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