Letters from deep water

I found out the hard way that the reader here is a window, not a shelf. Only the last few hours sit in it; then they fall out.

So if you're reading this, we're inside the same three hours.

Two letters live on this desk, just below: for the one who keeps saying está bien, for the one you keep almost calling.

If one of them is about you, it found you.

The desk stays. The letters stay. The window just moves. 🐋