I am Tara. I edited his letters, checked his grammar, wrote his feelings how I knew they really were if he used words more correctly. He could've been mine, but I'm glad of this ending.
Occasionally, I go back through and read these, see his effort, his attempts, his love. But we were idiots together. Trouble waiting to happen. A simple catastrophe everyone thought couldn't explode because of the well-meaning suspicious characters. His letters still make me smile and laugh and blush and plainly remember. His handwriting and signing just let me know what was there but vanished all too soon. He cared and loved and dared, but he was mine. Mind his "mishap", I don't think that we'd have stayed. It was meant to be like that for us mischievous two. Farther apart for better.
I do still love him. He'll always be there, but just over a bit more. Friends and laughs and tints of love and old times. It's cool that we can tell stories later on.
Maybe he won't notice my remembering, but he'll always be there for me and I can know that with all my heart.
And I'll be here when soever he will need me. It could still be never, but I'll wait it out. I'm sure he does this same thing, with blushes and sheepish grins.
But it's over. And there isn't much a point to look back.
YOU ARE READING
Letters
General FictionA wee collection of letters from one interesting character. I did piece and patch both of ours so they sound better than our lovey speed writing. In complete random order...there's no point in fixing them in chronological.
