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Dec 2015
Ross. I read your letters today. All seven. The ones from last summer. And wow. We were in love. Ross. I miss you. I miss the person who wrote me letters, beginning with β€˜my dearest’ and ending with love. And now they feel like artifacts, relics of a time I can’t remember. The thin paper carries a new weight. Each word a new meaning. Because this is all I have left of you. Your words. Our love. Each precious note a reminder of what we had. What I lost. You. Ross.
Emily Williams
Written by
Emily Williams
   Rose and ---
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