~~ It was an atypically cold morning amidst spring but he didn’t mind the weather. His phone was off and as it was expected of him, the bed remained undone and untouched. An empty glass on his desk, lamp on, windows wide open.
On the predominantly bright and white screen, one single sentence written.
That was everything.
The gaunt look on his face, the dark circles around his eyes, the quiet despair.
With the presence of a night crawler, he walked to kitchen and meticulously searched for something of interesting value in his messy living environment. Deception was clear until the moment his dog discovered something stuck under the front door.
- A… letter? Really?
The crumpled pages were printed but there was a handwritten signature that caught his attention because of its similarity to his own.
- Who did this? Ah. - He had a lucky guess.
As the sun pushed the night away, he sat and read what was carefully placed on those pages only for his eyes to read:
***
Hey there Mike, I hope this will find you at the right moment…
First and foremost I must apologize. I was way out of line in my last message. Part of me thought that question would sound ‘cute’ only to realize it was actually stupid shortly after I clicked on the ‘send’ button.
With that being said I must also let you know I’m writing this to tell you why I like you so much or in other words, why I think I like you so much and what liking you means to me, right now.
It’s entirely your choice to stop reading this letter at this instant if you don’t like to be thrown into the thoughts of somebody’s sweet/deranged little head in the middle of the night without any previous prep time…
Still here? You were warned.
My relationship status as we speak is ‘caught in somebody’s limbo where I’ve been fighting to get out alive without hurting the dreamer, not really knowing what the hell I’m searching for’, getting to the conclusion there’s ultimately nothing here for me to find, just to give: and I’ve given it all. I’m actually feeling like this is more like Blue Valentine and less Frankie and Johnny, nevertheless it is a situation I must deal with by myself, you have nothing to do with it, but
I kinda like you.
In fact, I like you quite a lot and this was the first time I felt like this since I fell for this guy I’m with. For a period I enjoyed being far, watching you work every now and then, thinking about what a great person you would be if I ever got to know you. I loved to do that.
Being away was right. I could think you were nice enough in my good days or hang on to the idea you were just an arrogant little asshole in my bad days, but it didn’t take long for you to talk.
It didn’t take long for me to notice my good days were always spot on and it definitely didn’t take me too long to be able to speak. That is a major issue in my book: a woman like myself should be silent for life or put away in a little village in the countryside of France (yes, France!) without internet connection so she’d never put herself in these stupid situations, ever again.
My point is I’m ashamed to like someone else but I’m not ashamed of liking that someone else. I’m ashamed I feel like a stupid platonic creepster when I know I’m nothing but a girl with lots of passion running through her veins and… I’m definitely ashamed of not being able to just take a deep breath and relax. No. I have to sit here and write this for you because, well, I like to make a brilliant fool of myself instead of simply moving on.
So, I’m sorry for my being me and I’m sorry I like you. You deserve someone less… well, like myself.
That was it and I guess I’m never seeing you again? :) …. :(
love, Rita.
***
By the time he was done reading the letter the day was new; the sprinklers had all gone off, the dogs were out sniffing trouble.
A few people stepped out of their houses, cars drove slowly by and there was a refreshing smell of coffee being brewed coming from the house next door.
It always seemed right to start a new story by morning time. ~~
