The Twilight Twenty-Five
thetwilight25 dot com
Pen Name: thimbles
Word Count: 420
We had six months together before you were whisked away, planted in a new office on the other side of the country.
Our friends laughed when we said we'd make it work. "It's too hard," they said. "You'll grow apart."
But we knew better. Our love was too big to be smothered by distance; elastic enough to stretch from one side of the continent to the other, strong enough that it wouldn't warp.
"A relationship is built on words," you told me. "And ours will be stronger because they're all we'll have."
There were times I doubted you. When I thought I'd go mad as I tried to calculate the time difference between us, when yet another night passed and you were asleep before I finished work. Our Skype dates dwindled, and I wondered if you were giving up on us. I wondered if I should, too.
Lonely at lunch time, I picked up a pen, tore some pages from the back of my diary, and I wrote you a letter across December 19 to 31. I posted it that afternoon.
Less than a week later, an envelope appeared in my mailbox. Inside, your scrawling cursive across the back of a week-old meeting agenda.
Our letters became more regular, written on clean pages. A month or so later, I even bought some fancy stationery.
There were envelopes waiting for me every day—sometimes more than one. We wrote hundreds of thousands of words, letting every thought, every dream, every desire spill in blue and black ink across our pages. I told you all my secrets, you gave me all yours in return.
Sometimes I couldn't remember what your smile looked like, but I could so easily imagine what you'd say about a song on the radio, or a newspaper article I skimmed in the few free minutes I hoarded each day. I couldn't remember if your eyes were blue or green, but I knew instinctively what would irritate you, what would make you laugh, and what would make you cry.
Nine months of soaking in your words, and I loved you more than ever. More than I thought I ever could. But I realized I needed more. I needed to see your face while you spilled your secrets. I needed to look into your eyes when I told you I loved you.
The day I went to quit my job there was a postcard on my desk.
I'm coming home. Forever. See you on Tuesday.
I love you,
I can't thank you enough for reading these little snippets. It's been fun.
Love, Shell x