Rain poured outside. Another bitter cold December night. Alone she sat on the edge of her bed, bathing under the faint street light, watching the countless beads of rain dribble down her steamy bedroom window, absorbing the storm's anger, containing the loneliness dormant inside of her for so long.
Tears welled in her eyes; heart swelled, breath smothered, memories aflame. Overwhelmed, she turned. Her eyes landed on the clock of her dimmed computer screen atop her grandfather's antique desk. Light softly touching its delicate carvings. It called, emotions embedded singing, luring her. Never before has she seen it this beautiful, this powerful.
Dazed, she stood, wooden floor plates creaking, cold under her steps, hand pulling the chair, sitting. Her palm brushed the aged surface, scratches, and imperfections.
How many letters were written atop of it? How many were they of love? How many were sent and how many not?
A flicker sparked in her, igniting the raging sea she contained, hand reaching for the 'on' button, finger tracing its circular edge for a moment, urgently pressing.
She clicked open her email, starting a new letter, leaving the 'send to' section blank.
Moments passed, the sound of rain a whoosh in the background, blankly staring at the little blinking line in the white page before finally lifting her arms, resting her wrists against the desk, fingers transcribing the unstoppable flow of words stemming from within onto the keyboard.
Dearest Micheal,
Like a fatal sickness, gradual, unannounced it came. The end of us. How impossible it seemed back then, addicted as we were. Deeply drowned in a sea of unspoken emotions.
Oh, how my soul yearns to a time past.
Young and naive was I to believe that we will last, our love, our happiness.
I miss the thrill, shudders, wrapping warmth, heartbeats, the uncontrollable smile on my face, even the tears. But most of all, I miss you, my soulmate and best friend.
Do you miss me as much? Wonder how I am? How's life treating me? If I was happy, or if I've moved on? Do you fight the urge to go back, to write? Do you write and not send, like the countless times I have?
The thought of you, though never gone, crosses my mind. Revived continuously by the strangest of things, a gush of wind, moonrise, children's laughter, even my name, and with every reminder, a letter is written. Woven in my heart, never sent.
It angers me, not being able to let go. To forget. I find myself swept by the universe, forced into an undesired journey through my mind. Taken back to the bittersweet memories of you. Leaving my emotions raw, memories alive, wishing for a dream not lived, and destiny unaccomplished.
It hurts not having you by my side. Not feeling your warmth. Nonetheless, I pray for your happiness and that you've found the love you've always desired. Yet, still, I am greedy, and my soul keeps yearning for you.
Would you read my mail if sent? Would you reply?
Oh, courage! The one thing I need but lack. To finally face my fears and press 'send.'
For you to know how I've felt and still feel. Even if I never get a reply. But I know as I type these words that this letter too will be deleted, like its sisters, never to see the light nor the bright gleam of your eyes.
Nonetheless, I'll keep writing for my heart's content, comforting myself that perhaps on the other side, you might be doing the same. Remembering, writing, and not sending.
I have never written the words boldly, never to myself nor you, but today, feeling as I do at this moment, I will,
I love you, Micheal. I will always do as long as I draw breath, united or not, I will always love you...
Forever yours,
Elisabeth.
For a long moment, she stared at the screen. Unaware of the tears damping her cheeks and sweater. Eyes fixed on the little arrow hovering over the send button, his name glowing at her in the 'send to' box.
Her jaw tightened, breath quickened.
A click echoed through silence, melting with the rain.
