Pen Pals

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It was no wonder that Sibiu was regarded as one of the most charming cities in central Romania. Every colorful house you passed by had its set of eyes. Their shapes varied. Most of them were trapezoid-shaped, and others had rounded or elongated forms. You couldn't help but feel watched by those windows, yet you found it oddly comforting instead of disturbing.

You pulled out your phone from your pocket and checked the time again. It was almost lunchtime. After exploring the city all morning, you had worked up an appetite. Smiling at your phone, you opened your messages and sent your friend a text. You couldn't wait to meet your pen pal.

Your luck with dating apps had been discouraging. You had been ghosted plenty of times, prompting you to seek an alternative way to connect with others. While browsing through Facebook, you saw one of your friends mention how much they loved having a pen pal. You messaged your friend and asked them for more details, which led you to joining a Pen Pal website. A place where you could connect and write letters to people from all over the world. How it worked was straightforward: The site matched you with another Pen Pal member somewhere on the planet, based on your common interests, hobbies, age, country, and preferred language. Once you find your match, you can leave that person a "Like" and see if they "Like" you back, or you could directly send them a postcard.

You were matched with a woman with the username: Dimitrescu_3. Like you, her profile picture was neutral. Before you felt comfortable sending any postcards, you reached out to her through a direct message online. Your connection was instant. She was quick to reply to your messages and was eager to get to know you. That afternoon, you smiled more than you had all week. The reasons being that you found her easy to talk to, and she seemed passionate about her country.

After going back and forth with messaging for several days, she sent you a postcard first, showing you the national flower of Romania and explaining its origin to you. Then you sent her a postcard containing a photograph of your view of the mountains each morning. Just like that, you and your new friend kept sending postcards on a regular basis. Each time you received one from her, joy tiptoed into your heart. You knew when to expect one from her; thus you got yourself all giddy over it like a teenage girl getting attention from her crush.

Nearing six months of having consistent communication with Dimitrescu_3, you added personal letters to your postcards, as did she. Your letters unfolded your deepest thoughts and feelings, which became a positive outlet for you to express yourself better. For her, it was her opportunity to pin down her emotions and to be released from the everyday stress and predictability of life. You proved a refreshment to her being, imbuing her with new perspectives, hopes, and dreams.

After eighteen months, your pen pal soon turned into something more than a "pal" to you. Eventually, your letters became intimate, to the point where your heart was cracking because it ached for more — more than a postcard or letter. You convinced yourself that your life would be much better if you could meet your friend in person, so you made it happen. During that summer, you requested time off work and traveled to Romania. Prior to your trip, you had arranged everything with your friend, like where you were going to stay, what tourist attractions you wanted to see, and how you would spend each day together.

In the large square surrounded by terraces and cafés, you took a seat on a bench near a water fountain. From your mini travel bag, which contained your phone, a water flask, and a small bottle of sunscreen, you pulled out a couple of her love letters while you waited for her arrival. You opened your favorite one, gazing upon her fine penmanship as though you were reading it for the first time. It was her last paragraph that made your heart sing.

"Although we have never seen each other's faces, I see you in my dreams. Although we have never heard each other's voices, I hear your whispers through your letters. Although we have only known each other for less than two years, it feels like I have known you all my life. Every waking moment, I think about you and how much you mean to me. You are the indelible mark upon my heart. I love you, my friend."

After you finished reading it, you set it down on your lap for a second because your phone buzzed. You assumed it was her texting you about running late, yet you were mistaken. It was your friend, asking you to send pictures of your trip whenever you had the chance.

Distracted by the text, you failed to catch your letter when the wind suddenly grabbed it and carried it along the paved squares. You stuffed your phone back into your travel bag and hurried after it, hoping the wind wouldn't kick up and blow it farther away from you.

Once the paper swept up against the stone slab of the water fountain, a tall woman bent down to pick it up before you could. Gracefully, she straightened her posture and craned her neck sideways. She stared down at your letter, reading every written word.

"Uh, excuse me?" You rushed over to her, intending to pluck it out of her hands. "That belongs to me."

The woman, who wore a black wide-brimmed hat, turned to look at you. A sweet smile appeared on her face. "So we finally meet."

As soon as you took the letter from her, you froze. Your eyes widened as they locked on to her with amazement. "Dimitrescu_03?"

She nodded. The pale woman then flung her body into you, wrapping you in a tight hug. You were exactly as she imagined in her dreams. "Hello, my dear friend."

Cheerfully, you hugged her back with great fervor. You could have collapsed right there and then with happiness. "I can't believe it!" You gazed up into her beautiful and kind eyes. "It really is you."

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