I know I’ve written a thousand letters to you and you still haven’t replied to one of them. They must have gotten lost in the mail. I at least hope you read the last one I sent. I really meant to move on, I hope you know.
Miss Jones down the road says the mailman told her he avoids dropping off anything when I’m home because he can’t bear the look on my face when I check the envelopes and there’s nothing from you. He knows your name. He knows you meant to write, but time always gets in the way. Moving on always gets in the way.
You probably won’t reply to this one as well, but I had to try. I woke up this morning and I could swear I smelled coffee brewing in the kitchen. Nowadays I seem to smell reminders of you whenever I draw breath. I promised myself I wouldn’t write anymore, but I had to tell you one last time. It’s not moving on if I’m still stuck in the same place.
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