A life packed in three boxes, one cupboard left. I found it in the back, the unopened pink envelope. I’m probably going to hell, so I read it anyway.
It was a declaration of love from a dying man. An outpour of scribbled letters painting a picture of a life shared. An honest, sincere apology that touched my heart. I gave it to Lucille, wiping the moisture from my cheeks. I watch her face and saw the tiny sparkles of tears in her eyes.
We looked at one another. No words. We embraced whilst she sobbed silently. I stood helpless, as tragedy filled the tiny room and settled amongst the boxes. Gran never read this. Maybe she would have forgiven him, been less cynical about life.
Maybe she wouldn’t have died with a broken heart.
This was the latest assignment of Writing 101 and it challenged me in two ways (1) It’s fictional and (2) Short. I would like to consider this my first mental back-flip.