The Letter
He sat on the couch, alone. The house was still as the early afternoon sun filtered in through the picture window behind him. He sat staring at the wall across the room or glancing disinterestedly at the pages of a book sitting opened and face down on the couch beside him. His mother was late and after being sick for four days, he would brook no delay. He was ready for the doctor. A little whir as the mini-van pulled in the driveway caused him to rise and open the door. "It's about time." "Sorry, I couldn't get away. Are you ready to go?" "I need a coat."
The stepped into the Aerostar and pulled out of the driveway. Then his mom backed up to the mailbox. "What are you doing now? Come on, we're going to be late." "This will only take a second." She leafed quickly through the mail. Bills. Advertisements. The usual. And then he saw it, just a she was ready to hand it to him. There, nestled comfortably between a Time magazine and an Army Reserve recruiting advertisement was a letter. He immediately identified the familiar script addressing the envelope. It was a letter, the letter from his friend. One he had been waiting for with some anxiety. He snatched it from his mother's grasp before it was even handed to him. She looked at him curiously but said nothing. "I thought it might come today," he stated rather lamely. He shoved his skinny index finger through the flap and wrestled it open and looked eagerly to see what it said.
"Dear…" Words came and went and he chuckled as he recognized the unconventional arrangement and usage, the colorful style and language of his friend. Soon the words disappeared because his friend was sitting there before him, telling him of his exploits. He chuckled when his friend mentioned something funny and smiled knowingly as he was confided in about love and life and pickup trucks. He friend soon disappeared and became just an unseen narrator as events of his friend's played themselves out before his eyes. For now he looked at the world through the eyes of his friend.
Then the vision vanished…
He grimaced at the last line only because it was the end of the letter. So he read it again. Again he saw his friend and they talked without him as much as needing to speak. And the it was over again. A smallish tear slid down his face and he fiercely wiped it away. Why did it have to end? There was still so much to talk about. He smiled a sad little, self deprecating smile, mocking himself. 'Shame he lives so far away,' he thought. 'Shame I don't have friends like that here.' There was a funny tickle in his nose and his snuffled to make it go away. "What's the matter," his mother asked, half concernedly, half knowingly. "Oh, it's just the remnant of a cold I'm getting over." And that was the truth. For as he sat there, holding the letter from his friend in his hands, the cold chill of Lonely faded a little from his heart and it's melted ice dripped from his eyes and onto the letter below.
Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott Rieker Scott