Dearest, Aline

💌 ― LETTER # 9

December 2014
Kvet, Casablanca

Dearest, Aline

I am writing to you as I take a sip of wine fresh from the cellar. It would be a shame not to listen to these sober thoughts while being stuck in an enclosed space.

Tonight, the Hot Wheels remain warm inside the caves I call my pocket. I reach for it and remember how you looked about a year ago. Are you still interested in reading my letters? It would sound insane to think I'm waiting for a soft whisper brought by the wind when the windows are closed shut where I currently sit and write.

There is this uncontrollable urge to grip my pen tight enough to bleed whenever the idea of you crosses my mind — one could resemble it to an awful itch that no back scratcher can reach. The only thing that holds me back is the idea of bombarding you with letters each day; overwhelming you is the last thing I'd want to happen. So I only deliver a message on rare occasions, such as when I get (or perhaps, want, but this is no rare occasion at all) to see you.

In between the gaps of these paragraphs, I make my way towards the balcony where there is fresh air to breathe. I notice a few things: the sky is dark, the lights are dim, but the grass is green, still. Time takes the form of sand falling on the bottom of the hourglass I keep forgetting to take inside my room. This is what my life looks like. If not for the seasons decorating my world, every mundane task is a repetitive habit that feels extremely difficult to get out of.

A knock on the rusty door breaks my train of thought. The sudden interruption bothers me for a minute before Phoebe Artemis welcomes me behind the loud creaking of the hinges; her facial expression, contorted. This is also a common sight by the way. She tells me to come down for dinner, followed by the traditional gift-exchanging ceremony.

I'd like to wish you happy holidays before I go. Such a shame we never had a chance to meet this winter. When will be the right time for me to give you what has been long overdue? I will try my best to be reminded next time.

Stay warm and cozy. :)

Yours truly,

Alexander