Speechless | Rayemma

20 | correspondence

She walks through the hallways in direction to the cafeteria, where she will eat breakfast.

As always, when she enters the room, everyone stops talking, afterwards they start whispering rumors into their friends' ears.

"Emma Francis is a stuck-up rich girl"

"I bet she thinks she is superior! I mean, look, she doesn't even bother talking to us"

"What a freak, she never talks."

She heard them, of course she did. Being unable to talk, she was forced to listen to everything around her, including the rumors people had created.

Nevertheless, she had learned how to ignore them, she had learn how to ignore everything around her.

That is until the end of the day, where she would fall on her bed, exhausted, and cry for hours.

Mostly about a black-haired boy she lost.

A black-haired boy that she cherished dearly, but most importantly, a black-haired boy she loved. She loved him so, so, so much. She always had but back then, she was too naive to realize it until she lost him.

The ginger approaches a table, in the back of the room, next to a window and sits down, alone.

She starts eating her ever so boring breakfast and gets lost in daydreams, the only thing keeping her sane.

Most of her daydreams went the same way.

She was in her ballet costume, dancing in a room to the tune of a piano when suddenly, the music stops, she stops too and observes how the pianist, Ray approaches her and without saying a single word invites her to dance, she accepts and they both start dancing in the middle of the stage, looking each other in the eye and smiling.

"Correspondence for Emma Francis." the mail boy, a student assigned to hand out packages and cards, which the apricot-haired girl never received, interrupts the girl's daydream and hands her a blue envelope, sealed with a silver moon-shaped sticker.

She grabs the envelope, which has no return address or name, and flips it around , curiously, she had a weird feeling about it; as if she had been waiting long for this letter to arrive. The back of the indigo-blue envelope had her name, Emma, written with surprisingly neat and surprisingly familiar handwriting.

She carefully opens it and pulls out the note stuck inside of it. The letter was written in recycled paper, the kind of brown-ish paper they often used in exams back at her old educational institution and would break easily if you tried to erase an answer you wrote wrong.

The first words of the mysterious note read:

"My dear carrot-head, letters are a way of talking despite you being speechless, isn't that right?"