th real-world acquaintances. Every new letter from Oliver pulled her away from herself because they introduc

r postal box tension and strong curiosity about its contents remained burned into her memory. Now, she did not hesitate. The

correspondence had his t

r E

Every time I receive one of your letters, it wants

I do not have any, but because for a long time, I stopped letting myself

den deck that stretched out over the water. I remember sitting there one evening, just as the sun was setting, with my feet dang

, but you do not have to move with it

next thing, the next distraction, the next milestone. But happiness is not in t

like to me. A moment of stillne

s the last time you f

ur

iv

mething stir deep inside her. She had never met Oliver, had never heard his voice,

like she

hat, she felt l

her pen and be

Oli

s struck me. She was right happiness is in the

box. I was at the beach, walking along the shore, and for the first time in a long time, I was not thinking about deadlines or responsibili

ing in particular-just the

ppiness that we forget to recogn

your letters. I did not expect that. I do no

by words alone? Or do you think, at s

ur

m

ing that last part. But i

beginning to wonder-was this all it would ever be? A

nowing she would not have an a

was the ha

at Changed

letter arrived. But th

s slightly thicker than usual as if Oliver had written more than

r E

has been on my mi

words alone? Yes. I think

top being enough

I wonder what kind of expressions you make when you write if you chew on the end of y

it would be li

must a

you li

orld, but if you are willing, I woul

pectations. Just a

ur

iv

bled as she read

ted to

not just ink on a page. He was real, out

want to

she reached for a b

Oli

ent I read your letter, I felt

e

like to

when and

ur

m

e looked like, how it would feel to finally see him in person, whether it would feel

ssed. The

ad changed his mind when a small p

single piec

ma

ffee shop in your city-The Blue Finch.

still w

ur

iv

e inside. Do not open it u

h caught in

comin

but she hesitated. Something about the way h

t it a

dy knew h

p.m. – The

l corner table, fingers wrapped tightly around her coffee cup

ally, he

s him the mome

ant but warm smile. He scanned the room,

ent, neither o

Oliver walke

seat, her heart ham

, no ink, no paper-just two people standing

liver

knew-this had never just

ays been a

the rest of thei