Butterfly
I was checking the mail with longing everyday. So, the day it arrived was like any other. I disappointedly walked up my steps after an empty mailbox and saw it at the front door. I thought it would be a letter, I was so surprised. I immediately opened the box and then set it aside, still wrapped in bubble wrap. I hadn't prepared, you see. First, I showered fully, using scrubs and smelly soaps. Then I dressed up, put on Chopin, turned on the fan.
Then, Sarah called. I should have turned off the phone.
About an hour later, I finally opened it. I knew. I knew why. Then I read. I think what touched me most, besides this obvious connection to the past, was that you gave me some of your photography. I love your photography. I've stared at your journal endlessly recently, so estatic that there they are, these moments.
Thank you, of course.
Then, Sarah called. I should have turned off the phone.
About an hour later, I finally opened it. I knew. I knew why. Then I read. I think what touched me most, besides this obvious connection to the past, was that you gave me some of your photography. I love your photography. I've stared at your journal endlessly recently, so estatic that there they are, these moments.
Thank you, of course.