Words of Winter

✧. ┊Love Letter

Emilie,

Last night, I made up a string of lies just to ask my mom what she thought of you. I wouldn't dare to write every word she uttered in this paper because it would be too much for the nib to handle. Allow me to summarize it for you to protect your heart: she did not approve of us. It hurt me to see that the woman I have looked up to for so long would go so far to insult you, even if the both of you have never formally met.

People may never approve of us, but none of it matters.

We have professed our love in the presence of God. If they say our love is false, then so is the God we all bow down to. Still if they prove that God is real and our love falser than false, then reality isn't real and this world is a dream, and what a beautiful dream we've concocted for each other.

Tonight I will dream of you as every other night, and there we will meet again.

Your Eternity,

Rostom

As I wrote the last letter, I took the paper that held these contents and rested it on the table beside me. I wiped the black ink off my fingers with a worn-out towel, as I looked out into the horizon.

There were things in this world that I begged to know, like why we could barely see so much of the world when we looked towards the distance. But as I looked into the pink sky, raging into orange and then black, I realized the magic of distance: I can believe that there's a whole other world behind the distance my eyes are capable of seeing, even if it was most likely filled with nothingness.

"Are you done with my letter?" Jun, my schoolmate, asked, who crept up behind me as I was looking out the window.

"The ink is drying. I'll put it in the envelope in a few minutes," I explained to him.

"Can't you just use the Parker Ink? I swore you used that a few letters ago." he insisted.

"The Parker inks aren't dark enough for me."

"With writing like that, I'm sure the receiver wouldn't think about what ink you're using. Elaine–Emaine–I mean Emilie–loves the letters that I send her!"

"Yeah, yeah. It's a me problem. But I just think the presentation is just as important as the content, you know? Why do you think we judge people's handwriting so much? Ink is also a factor in how we judge the writer," I explained.

"We can talk about ink if we were in the 20th century, but we're not. Aimie–letters have been out of fashion for so long that people won't even tell what's good parchment and what isn't."

"Yet you come to me asking to write old-fashioned letters with flowery words for a woman," I said as I raised my eyebrows.

He scratched his head, tilting it while explaining, "She's an intellectual. I needed to find a way to impress her."

I shook my head. This dude was a pain in the ass.

"Alright, the letter's dried. Now take this envelope and get out," I ordered him, folding the letter into the envelope before I gave it to him. He placed a couple of coins on the table and left the classroom.

I tightly sealed the bottle of ink before wrapping it in a plastic bag. I stuffed it in the bottom of my bag before putting the extra pieces of paper inside my portfolio bag. For a brief moment, I continued to look out the window. Then, there was a knock on the door.

"Aimie," Yuki greeted me softly before walking towards me.

"I'm surprised to see you here," I told him. I felt spots of heat enter my cheeks. I looked away, allowing my cheeks to cool down, before turning to him.