ONE-HUNDRED

The typewriter ran out of ink, but Lenny didn’t notice. He just wanted to tell his story, wanted her to know he’d be waiting for her return.

When he finished typing, he didn’t read over the letter, but simply sealed it up with wax and a seal, like they did ages ago, and put it in an envelope and mailed it off to her. He knew she still lived in their hometown, and hoped she’d smile after reading.

She opened the letter, and read aloud, “Dear Sara, I want you to know…” and the rest of the page was blank.

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This entry was posted in Random.

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