Sunday, June 01, 2008

I remember how he used to write her on a daily basis. Type her. Advancements in technology meant electronic mail, but type he did.

She could expect a virtual letter every single night. He wrote about everything; how his day went, how he wished it went, his thoughts, dreams, musings, and every letter would end with two words: Always Love,...

He wore his heart on his sleeve, and his sleeve connected to the Internet.

He wrote her every night. He sent his love every night.

She never wrote him back. Never a single response, a single word or sentence. It was like writing in the wartime, and he was a soldier on the front line, pouring his heart out, hoping for a reply back.

But the letters just stacked up into nothingness.

I remember how he used to write to her every night, how he would hope for something, anything, in return.

But perhaps "always" does not last forever.

1 comment:

heather o. said...

alvin i like this.