Charlotte rushes to the front door. A letter just came in. She hurriedly unsealed the pale white envelope, yet when she was to take it out, she froze.
"What is it?" Chloe asked.
"You see, it's such a joy receiving a letter from him ... to know that he still does care to write to me," said Charlotte.
"Mmhm?"
"But to read it and write back ... it means another waiting ... waiting for it to reach him, if it reaches him ... waiting for him to write back, if he was to write back ...
" ... and look: I know for sure he will. But the wait ...
" ... the wait is just ... painful.
"How I wish to just see his face and hug him; hug him tight so that while I know he wouldn't go anywhere even if I didn't, I can feel his warmth under my own arms.
"How I wish to just talk to him, like ... talk talk, without all the wait."
Chloe hugs Charlotte.
"It's okay. It's okay, Charlotte. He loves you, and no amount of waiting will ever wane his love for you."
"Thanks, Chloe."
No comments:
Post a Comment