You have been sending each other letters, and decide to meet in person
I have always been a little old-fashioned. I mean, letter-writing, seriously?
But there was always something I loved about it. The intimacy and meaning that someone went through to actually write a letter, and mail it to someone.
For the past few weeks, I have been exchanging letters with a pen pal, by which I only knew his name, Elijah. He was absolutely fascinating. We talked about anything and everything.
Favourite books, movies, activities. And then we shared our problems and secrets as well. How I struggled with anxiety, and how he had a very toxic and unorthodox family.
I think he likes to use metaphors a lot, because he refers to himself and his family as vampires, which is obviously not true. I think he just sees himself as something dark, and bloodthirsty, and doesn't know how to fix it.
I had just finished writing off a letter, and was about to put it into an envelope, before I had an idea.
Tentatively, I took out a pen, and wrote:
P.S. I was wondering if we could ever meet, you know, like in person. I would love to see you face-to-face.
I read it over a few hundred times, making sure it didn't sound desperate, or weird, or clingy, or lame. After a few minutes, I decided it was going to have to do, put it into the envelope, and headed out to the post office to send it off.
On the way there, I got the distinct feeling that someone was following me. Blaming it on my nerves, I ignored the feeling, and decided to take the shortcut to the post office, which was through the alleyways.
The feeling got stronger, and eventually, I got so uncomfortable that I decided to turn around.
Then I heard a rustle behind me.
Running my hands through my brown hair, I looked around frantically.
Suddenly, a figure shot out of the darkness and tackled me to ground. Shrieking, I clawed at the person on top of me. Before I could even touch them though, he was thrown off of me and I shakily got up to my feet.
There was man in a suit, holding my attacker.
"Now that wasn't very nice, was it," he said to the attacker.
The attacker looked up at the man, and I saw his eyes visibly widen.
"A M-m-mikaelson.." he stuttered, looking terrified.
"I swear man, I just wanted something to eat, I didn't mean to offend you," he pleaded.
What the heck? Did he want me to buy him something? Was this just a creepy homeless man?
