Dearest, Aline

💌 ― LETTER # 6

April 2014
Kvet, Casablanca

Dearest Aline,

Sleep took its precious time before visiting me in bed. Apparently, it hasn't even arrived yet. Most people would call this insomnia — I couldn't really care less.

After consuming a glass of warm milk in the wee hours of the night, I've decided to let my mind wander instead of counting more sheep. I pictured us stargazing together at the beach. You would look at the sky and count the stars while I look at you and count the stars on your face. We'd have our own definition of a scenery. Isn't that fun?

Or you can imagine a bonfire as we roast s'mores; melt marshmallows if we fail to get ourselves the crackers. Eat and laugh and tell each other stories.

I shattered the fragile thought as easy as throwing a rock on our neighbor's glass window. Surprisingly, convincing myself that it'll ever happen turned out quicker than expected.

A yawn sneaked in as I was about to continue making plans for what's to come. My body would despise me if I choose to let this opportunity slide, so I suppose this is goodnight.

Fais de beaux rêves. I am certain that you, of all people, should know what that means.

Oh, before I forget, one of my recent hobbies include learning new languages. And no, I'm not doing this to converse with you in your native language. Definitely not.

Yours truly,

Alexander

P.S. I have a confession to make. The sheep are terribly worn out from jumping off the fence pointlessly. They figured thinking about you makes it easier for me to fall asleep. Permission to do it more often?