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Letters We Mailed to the Wrong House
romanceEveryone6 contributors · 5 paragraphs deep
I read it. Five years. He's loved her for five years and never said a word. And I recognize the handwriting. It's my neighbor, the quiet guy across the street. My hands are shaking. I have to do something. But what?
I walk over with the letter. He opens the door, sees it, and freezes. 'Did she... did she send this back?' I nod and lie. 'She read it. But she didn't write back.' His face empties. He closes the door. Two weeks later his apartment is empty.
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