September 12th 1982
We went on our first date tonight. I begged you to take us somewhere secluded where no one would see us, especially people we know. But of course, you refused.
And even though I was practically shaking with anxiety the whole night, hoping nobody would say anything to us, I actually had a lot of fun.
Sure, there's a communication barrier between us, but you made it feel nonexistent. You taught me how to bowl, how amazing dipping french fries in a milkshake would taste, and what it really feels like to be willing to show yourself to the world.
You're so proud and open about who you are. I envy you for that. I want to be able to walk out of my house, down the street, through town, and not worry about what people think of me.
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.
