Writing Letters [completed // editing]

| letter twenty three december first 2000 |

"Will you will still you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?"

                                 ~lana del rey [young and beautiful]

Dear Angel, 

I took a trip to the Florida coast, you know, we live quite close to it. It's a beautiful place, full of happiness and life. I don't know what I was expecting to see, whether it be you, or something else. 

I guess I found what I was looking for, though. Whilst I was walking along the beach, the hot sand sliding into my shoes, burning my feet, I saw the most peculiar thing. 

 A beautiful shell, perfectly round, a pearly shade of pink. It was perfect, almost too much so. 

You know what happened next, something that confuses me beyond belief. I got in my car, practically speeding to your apartment, to give you this perfect shell. I was ready to talk, even if you were taken. 

As I pulled up to your apartment building, I began to have second thoughts. 

What if you didn't hear what I had to say? I had been rather rude to you, after all, not even answering your calls. But somehow, I mustered up the courage to go and knock on your door. 

I still remember the look on your face when you opened the door, you saying, "What the hell are you doing here?" 

"I came to give you this," I held out the shell at that point. "And I'm ready to talk now." 

"Look," you said, "I really need you to leave now."

I just stood there in front of you, my arm still out stretched, a frown on my face. 

And here comes the most confusing part, Angel. 

You muttered under your breath, something like 'screw it', I believe, before pulling me inside of your apartment, locking and shutting the door. You pinned me, placing one of your hands by my head, the other on my hip. 

"What are you doing," I had started to say, but you didn't give me time to finish, before you kissed me. 

As always, 

Ash