Oh Story of a Love Letter, how long will you elude me? Your twists and turns, the gentle curves of you, have proved too subtle for my cumbersome prose.
I sat with you, in the midst of your broken sentences and your un-linkable paragraphs. I sat, typing endlessly, constantly trying to find the right words to express you. But, even as I worked, you were moving away from me.
The closest I got to you was this:
But, as he approached the letterbox, John realised that it wasn’t a flyer at all: it was an eggshell-blue envelope with a postage stamp placed perfectly in its top right-hand corner.
It seems I was not ready for the next sentence. I was not ready to hear your secret.
Now we must part company, and I am left wondering: were my efforts in vain?
But perhaps, my dear Story, we will meet again? Maybe when my novel is in its tenth chapter, you will come back to me and share your sweet words.
Until then, stay safe.
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