My heart raced with anticipation as I recognized her handwriting on the front of the envelope. It had been nearly a week since I heard a single word from her. Now in my hands was an envelope with a letter containing all the sentences my heart longed to read. My mind coursed over the previous conversations we shared, searching for snippets of information which could clue me in on where she was and what she had been doing.
I couldn’t help but to smile at the thought of visiting Europe with her one day. Telling the story of how she had sent me a letter, and years later for our honeymoon we revisited the same location. Maybe she was in Spain touring a thousand year old castle or in Scotland experiencing a festival unlike anything found in the states. The possibilities were endless, and the answer lay hidden inside this simple envelope.
I broke the seal and pulled our a beige piece of paper. It was frayed on the top and left side with sharp indents on both, as if it was ripped out of a notebook carelessly. Then my eye focused on the single line of elegant and precise script. Invisible hands squeezed the air from my lungs as a knife began to slowly saw its way through my heart. If my world was a snow globe, this would be the moment when the fragile glass meets the cold unforgiving concrete.
Mile 29 