The letters still came, even after she changed her address. Twice. She could never understand who was so desperate to stay in touch with her that they kept writing letters. One each every month and like the interest got accumulated in her bank account on the 10th of every month, the letter too came on the 10th day of every month.
Thinking back, she could not remember one such month when the letter had not come. And on her birthday, there would be a nice greeting card with flowers printed on it and inside, there would just be one line ‘May all your wishes come true’ and it would be signed, ‘Forever yours, Me’.
From the handwriting she always felt the letters were written by an artist, it always seemed like the loops and the descenders had their own story to tell. Though she was clueless about the origin of the letters, she was never spooked about them or never felt them as a threat to her. She found an odd sense of comfort and always felt like there was someone in the world who cared about her no matter what all she did in her life.
Things seemed out of the ordinary when the 10th of August passed without any letter from the person. It was then that the itch arose in her, an itch that would not give her peace of mind until she found out the address of the person who had been sending her these letters for the past 23 years.
April 1 is based on the letter A where my friend
and I have chosen to write stories about the word Address.
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Writing to me is therapy, it frightens and comforts at the same time. Liberates like nothing else. A book in my own name is a dream, but a bigger dream would be to write something that haunts the reader even after the last page is turned and the book is shut. I enjoy reading and music, spending time with family whilst battling my social awkwardness.