Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE RAIN POURED DOWN HER WINDOW, leaving a sloppy contrail in its wake on the glass. It was the only relevant entertainment she had that morning, considering the family television connection was hindered by the storm.
She watched it trickle down the entirety of the glass before it vanished to continue its journey down the house, and her eyes drifted back to the center of her dim bedroom as she sighed.
That day, she was ill with a sinus infection and a fever, which resulted with her being bedridden by her parents and absent from school for a few fortunate days. Her parents had left their suburban home an hour earlier for their jobs in town, only after rattling off everything she may have needed to be aware of for that day. They had particularly emphasized the need for her to remain laying in her bed and not create any mischief - which she was rather notorious for.
Therefore, to brand her as bored, was putting it rather lightly.
Amelia grunted softly into her pillow, as half of her face sunk into the cushion, and flickered her eyes to the pile of papers fluttering out from beneath her bed. Oh, the letters. She hadn't had the opportunity to study the ones that had been slid into her locker that school week, so she hurriedly dropped her hand down to them to snag them from below the bed.
It had been little over a month since she had discovered the first letter in her locker, and was nowhere near to finding the person behind the writing. She knew it couldn't be any of the boys she was friends with - none of their hand writing came close to the neatness of the printing marked across the lines. Along with that, she was well aware that none of them could conjure up the sappy, lyrical words that made up the countless letters - it was far beyond their capacity, in all honesty.
So, gliding a manicured finger beneath the folded piece of paper, Amelia flicked it open and noticed just how creased the sheet was. Squinting just to read and comprehend the words, she started to scan her eyes over the first sentence:
Dear y̶o̶u̶ Amelia,
You have curly hair and soft eyes.
You make me happy, as happy as can be. I̶'̶m̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶s̶a̶y̶ ̶m̶o̶r̶e̶ ̶b̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶I̶ ̶d̶o̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶r̶u̶i̶n̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶l̶i̶f̶e̶.̶ ̶
Your eyes are a light blue of the ocean reef - a shade that everyone craves for and where admirers hearts plunge. O̶h̶ ̶s̶h̶i̶t̶,̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶h̶o̶r̶r̶i̶b̶l̶e̶!̶
