Love Bites

Annelise

The man stood over the worn cardboard box, holding the fragile envelopes in his trembling, wrinkled hands. It had been so long since he'd seen them, since he felt their soft, yellowing parchment upon his skin.

So much time--too much time--had passed since he'd read the letters contained inside them, and cautiously, he removed the brittle paper from its sleeve. Now he would read them. Now he would remember her, entirely and completely, through her writing. He'd see her warm brown eyes again and her silky chestnut hair. He'd hear her beautiful laugh, which had since then faded from his memory.

He'd remember the way she'd look at him, those clear eyes filled with so much adoration.

The box had accumulated dust; it had been lost in the attic somewhere, among all the other things from his past that hurt too much to look at. But for so many years, he had longed for a wisp, a taste of her once again, and coming across the box of old letters, he realized he could.

Ever so gently, he unfolded the first letter and began to read.

January 23, 1941

My dearest Hubert,

Life here is hard. I miss the old times; before the days of sown on yellow stars and before my family and I were forced to move into the ghetto. Here, they restrict the amount of food and supplies we receive, but the amount they allow us is hardly enough to keep us going. The days drag on, and the only thing keeping me alive is the very thought of you.

I'm still completely in love with you, Hubert, and I miss you so much so that, some days, the ache in my heart is stronger than the ache in my stomach.

Paper and ink is limited here, and I mustn't keep writing.

I love you so much,

Annelise

The man slowly returned the letter to its envelope and gently placed it back in the box. He reached for one dated earlier; when life was not so full of hate, when holding her was not just a yearning but an everyday luxury.

He smiled wistfully at the memory.

June 7, 1932

Hubert,

Sometimes you drive me out of my mind. But it's useless; I'm in love with you and I can't help it. You make me laugh and you not only bring out the good in me, but you bring out all of me.

Have I told you how much I love you?

I don't know what I'd do without you, except Mother calls what we have "puppy love". She says it won't last long and that, pretty soon, we'll lose interest in each other. I truly think she's wrong. What we have is something more. I'll see you tomorrow in our usual spot--the grassy field by the train tracks.

Kisses,

Annelise

The man mulled over the words for a while, rolling them around, tasting them. After all this time, the wound mistaken as healed was actually raw, the memory of Annelise causing a pain in his heart he couldn't begin to describe. He loved her then, and he loved her still. That would never change.

Time would heal some wounds, but others would always be there. She'd always be with him wherever he went; the wound always tender and the memories always fresh. The letters--they would be the piece of her he'd always keep.

That girl he fell in love with so long ago would forever be a part of him. The girl who stole his heart, and who still kept it.

Annelise.

~~ the end ~~

About the Author

A writer of Historical Fiction, Action and short stories, flying_higher_ originally wrote this piece for Challenge 1 on the Romance profile. The story is dedicated to her in thanks, and you can find more of her work on her profile.