The Letter

Writing 101: Day Five
You stumble upon a random letter on the path. You read it. It affects you deeply, and you wish it could be returned to the person to which it’s addressed. Write a story about this encounter.
Today’s twist: Approach this post in as few words as possible.

[Author’s note: I was excited to post the link on writing 101 that I forgot to publish it. Duh!  Apologies to readers who clicked and went nowhere]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *** ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I would have never found the letter if I had been in shape and didn’t have to stop for a rest, halfway up the hill. It had been there for some time, because it was pressed into the dirt and exposed to the elements.
Did I dare open and read it? Although torn and battered, the envelope had not been opened or torn.

I hurried home to investigate further. I used a soft make-up brush and gently swept the envelope free of surface dirt. I had a magnifying glass in my office, which I needed to make out the faded writing.

Sophia Miller
183 Northward Way
Gilroy, Illinois   61876

The faded postmark was the hardest to read, but it looked like it originated in New York, and I was 99% sure the date was September 10, 2001. A chill shot up my spine when I realized the letter had probably been in New York the day Al Qaeda destroyed the twin towers.

Did Sophia have family in New York? A boyfriend? Husband? Child?  It was making me anxious. I needed to know who wrote her this letter!

Instead of opening Sophie’s letter, I booted up my laptop and searched the white pages for Gilroy, IL. No Sophia to be found, however there was an S. Miller in Gilroy, and I would bet money it was Sophia.

I dialed the phone number listed, and a young woman answered with “Hello?”

“Hi, I’m calling for Sophia Miller.”

“I’m Sophia” she replied. I could tell by her voice she was suspecting I had something to sell, or wanting her to give to a cause.

“My name is Cari, and I just found an old letter addressed to you, postmarked in New York”

“Where are you located?” she asked me.

“Northern California.”

“Wow” she said, then silence.  “Who is it from?” she finally asked.

“There is no return address.” I said, hoping she would ask me to open the letter for her.

But she didn’t. The next day I mailed off a larger envelope to Sophia with the old letter enclosed.

Dammit!

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