Returned With Notes
romanceEveryoneI take it home and grab a pen. Under their 'You would?' I write: 'Forgiving isn't the same as forgetting. Page 200 proves it.' I answer every single reply. Little arguments. Little agreements. On the last blank page I write: 'Your move.' Next morning I put the book back in the box. By noon it's gone.
A week goes by. Then two. The box fills with cookbooks and a phone manual. No blue pen. Fine. It was a stranger. It was nothing. Week three, my book is back — with a pressed flower flattened at chapter 12 and one page corner folded down. The folded page has a line underlined: 'I kept meaning to come back.' Below it, in blue: 'Sorry. Family stuff. Did you miss me?'
What happens next?
1 ways forwardUnder 'Did you miss me?' I write the true thing instead of the cool thing: 'I checked the box every day. Twice on Tuesdays.' Then, before I can stop myself: 'Is the family stuff okay?' Book goes in the box. Gone by evening. It's back in TWO days. Blue pen, smaller than usual: 'Mom's better. You're the first person who asked. — M' A letter. I finally have a letter.