forgotten notes || l.t. AU

It's 1876.

You've been gone traveling for ages now; I haven't seen you since last fall.

the last good time.

"Fall is the sweetest season."
"Why is that?"
"Because even though everything is dying, it's making way for new life."

I still get your letters. I still have your painting sitting on the mantle of the fireplace. When I'm sitting by the light, reading or knitting before I retire for the night, I'll read them and look at your face in memory.