September 7th 1982
It's been a few days since our first day of senior year and your first day at Oak Hill High School. A few days since I wrote that I hated you, which I will never let you see I mean I'll never let you read any of these, but still. But the few encounters we've had since then has proved my otherwise non-hateful feelings towards you.
I may not be able to hear what you say, but when you gave me that note today explaining why you laughed at me on our first day, I felt instant regret and then instantly desired to be your friend. I've shamelessly memorized the note.
"Howdy, Lewis. I have evidence to believe that you hate me because I laughed at you when you got hit in the head with a football. I'm extremely sorry, by the way. How was I supposed to know you were deaf? And sucked at sports, but those are just minor details. Still, I should have known better, and I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I get terribly awkward around people I find attractive and nice and plain cute. Hence, you. I know it doesn't put to justice why I laughed so much, but you've got to understand that I'm a socially awkward teenager who wants to ask you out. Blame me all you want, hate me, but let's go on a date first.
Love, Zach.
P.S. I know some sign language ;)"
The shock of someone taking their own time just to write me a note, a letter, hit me before anything else. Nobody has ever showed me this kindness and I want to relish in it for as long as I can before you decide I'm not worth it.
Everyone always decides I'm not worth it.
Maybe you're different from the rest like I think you are. I hope so.
Lewis
YOU ARE READING
The 2,000 Letters
Short StoryHe wrote 2,000 letters. One every day since they met. For 2,000 days. And not a day longer.
