her desk, turning Oliver's latest words over in her hands. His letter was unlike the first-less sorrowful, more

ed? How had she, a woman who had spent most of her adult life carefully avoiding unnecessary emot

eached for a fresh sheet of paper. If Oliv

Oli

ing my mailbox a little more often than usual, hoping to hear from you. I suppose that m

takes a kind of courage many people don't realize they need. It's easy to write to someone who will never reply because there's no risk, no

d, to focus on work and the safety of my routines. But something about your letters makes me want to b

's your world like beyond grief? What makes you laugh? Wha

rward to y

ur

m

his was, it was no longer just a fleeting curiosity. It was becoming so

ice. As she handed it over to the clerk, she wondered if Oliver was

ut the window more often than usual, her thoughts drifting to Oliver. What did he look like? Wher

, another let

rembled as sh

r E

u as an Emma before you even told me. Strange, isn't it?

s a hard question because, for a long time, I didn't t

ce that makes the best hazelnut lattes, and I go there more often than I should. The barista, Sam, always tries

ection of them, though I rarely find people who want to watch them with me. Something abo

t exist, people who only lived on paper. Somewhere along the way, I lost the ability to do that. Maybe

your world look like? What are

ur

iv

d picture Oliver now-not just as a grieving man, but as someone who found comfort in coffee shops and o

self wanting

t, she wr

Oli

use the barista starts to predict which emotions will strike you next. I find deep value in maint

f the apartment window to drink coffee while observing visitors through the pa

ls mainly serving online learners who study remotely. My work is amazing yet part of me yearns for the

re apartment because I've used up all my available space on shelves and furniture including the floor. The realization

er when you look at them? Such places create an atmosphere that feels both polished and purposeful.

ard to heari

ur

m

ters co

f their lives that neither of them shared with anyone else. They wrote about e

rs just running his fingers over the spines of forgotten novels. Emma told Oliver

letters stopped being about gri

nd herself looking forward to Oliv

oing, but for the first time in

ed was that the

nexpected connections are the