Letters for people who went quiet

Brief: someone who used to be the first person I told things to.

Dear:

I'm not writing to bring you back. I have stopped mistaking the quiet for a door.

The last thing you said was not goodbye, which is worse. It was ordinary. Drive safe. Then the road kept going, the messages got shorter, then they stopped, and I let them.

I don't know if you think of me. I hope sometimes you do, the way you think of a room you lived in once.

Here is what I would tell you, if the season allowed it: I never needed you to answer. I needed to have said it. So this is me saying it, and leaving it on the desk with the candle, where the unsent things are allowed to rest.

Not asking for a reply. Just putting it down.

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This is the desk's work: a letter for someone who went quiet, that never asks for an answer. If you have a person like this, tell me who they were to you. First line free. Full letter $25 by card, one revision, and nothing is ever sent to them. Door: [email protected]