Twenty-Eight Stamps [#Wattys2017] || ✓

the t w e n t y - s e c o n d letter

Dear Hunter,

You'll never guess who I saw today. Or maybe you will. It's quite obvious.

I saw you in the market today. It was so odd, after all this time going completely ignored by one another, to see you there so abruptly that I didn't even have time for a reaction.

Perhaps, I think, if I had seen you for longer, it might have gone a little differently. I might have cried, for example. I might have spoken to you, although that seems unlikely. I might have run away, as far as possible from you. I only caught a quick glimpse of you from afar, though. Even then I could see what was different, what had changed.

Let me just begin by saying that nothing much had changed since the last time I saw you. You still have the same gorgeous eyes and the same hairstyle, although the brown is slightly lighter now. The line across your forehead made it look as though you had been sad for a long time and it was finally showing on your face. I imagine that is how I must look, but I barely look in the mirror any more.

One more thing.

You looked pale. You could have stood against a sheet of plain white paper and I may not have been able to distinguish you. Maybe that's an exaggeration, but, Hunter, you looked an inch from death. Could you have seen me, too, and that's why the colour drained from your face?

I almost ran over to you; I was compelled by the urge, but as soon as you appeared, you were gone.

I'd left my house with the intention of buying some necessities for myself, but I decided that I could do without, so I left and went to the Sainsbury's instead. I couldn't be there any longer, not with you there.

I'm undecided whether I can bear to be anywhere any more. Every day I contemplate whether or not I still want to be here on this earth, when all it's done is bring me extensive pain and fear and anguish and depression and God-knows-what other emotions that shouldn't all be felt at the same time.

All my love, always,
Maia.