Monday, July 5, 2010

"I promised myself I wouldn't do it." She wrote a letter, her words slithered across the page. The poor letter would never be sent, but she was bent on writing it anyway. "I demanded my heart not fall in love, but it did. It fell in love with you. Remember me, please." She folded the letter, and hit it away from prying eyes. Page 58 in her tattered spanish textbook. It was the safest place, for most her friends took french classes, they wouldn't need to borrow her dilapidated book. She sighed openly, glad her letter was done.

1 comment:

  1. good. But why not send it? Would it not be better to take the chance, to know she could at least have the comfortable thought she tried her hardest? Perhaps she could have a daughter named "Clarissa."