Letters to the Unknown

red to a precise plan. The peacefulness of her compact home space appealed to her because sunlight through glass windows made books and notes shine each afternoon.

for sustainable living content, Emma took a mail check break. The routine led her down her building'

er curiosity peaked when she went through the envelopes. Among all the envelopes, one letter demanded her attention. This envelope was separated from standard commercial m

handwritten number marked the envelope as her mailbox with precision. The mess

handwriting on the page presented itself with seminal penmanship, although showing slight trembling. Emma took notice, so she carefully examined the envelope while feeling

is not yours. But when she returned to her desk, she found herself still holding the letter, her

ope and opened it. Inside was a single sheet of paper, also handwritten. As she unfolded it, the scent of faint

gan to

these words will ever reach you, but I needed to write them down all the same. You see, there is somethi

fter line of confessions that made her heart tighten in her chest. Whoever had written this letter had poured their s

racing. She was not Maya. She did not know Maya. But now, she felt inexplicably connected to the writer of the l

it back or ignored it. But something deep inside told her that this was

m-Oliver Bennett. The name was unfamiliar, but there was something about it that see

had a choice to make. She could ignore it, let it go,

she knew she was stepping into a story that was not hers, Emma foun

reath, she be