Westley has always known Claire. She's always been a constant in his life, whether it be as his babysitter, his secret Santa, as his pretend-girlfriend, his confident, as the person he could always rely on.
But she's also always been the girl he lov...
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I'm thirty five and I just found a strange box in our closet.
I was putting away the winter clothes and I was doing a half-assed job and knocked down this old box in wood with a little locket.
When it fell down the locket broke and the box opened.
It's filled with the letters I sent Claire when I was younger. I can't believe my eyes. I never saw that box before.
Claire finds me sitting there on the ground, winter clothes still not put away, reading through my most depressive years.
She huffs staring at me. "You had one job."
I ignore her and shake the letter I'd been reading. "You kept all of these?"
She smiles, sitting beside me. "Of course I did. I loved getting your letters."
"You loved getting them but you didn't bother to send me your new address when you moved."
"What are you talking about?" she says, snatching the letter out of my hands and starts to gather all the other ones on the ground into a neat little pile. "You're the one that suddenly stopped sending me some. I assumed you had grown out of it. That you were finally making friends."
"I sent you a letter once and it got returned to sender. I thought you had moved."
"Oh god... I know what this is."
"What?"
"I was dating a total douchebag back then."
"Oh wow, cheating on me too, beautiful."
She laughs. The smile stays on her lips. "I was dating a douche and he was trying to isolate me from everyone. He didn't want me to talk to my family too often and he was always making a fuss about the letters. He must have gotten my mail one day he was staying over and returned it to you."
"So you're telling me you didn't move?"
"No."
"And you would have still wanted to get my letters."
