Ava Morrison held a piece of computer paper in her hand, one that was wrinkled from being read over and stuffed into Luke's drawers in hopes of being forgotten before this very moment. Delilah's feminine handwriting littered the page, words crossed out and some things misspelled. Her letter seemed to convey confused emotions. Confused, yes, but also truthful. As far as Ava could tell.
She hadn't actually read the words yet. For some reason, she felt nervous and it hit her how horrible it must've been for Luke to get this while Ava was in his bed. And she was the one who had technically given it to him since Delilah hadn't.
Feelings from that night flowed through her, the remembrance of Delilah's pretty face showing up in the late hours of night, and Ava was fully aware of how she felt that night as well. Scared. Melancholic. Emotional.
She didn't feel that way now.
The nervousness within her was merely coming from the anticipation of reading something so personal, so private, so raw and real. She didn't know what this letter could even begin to say.
"Yes, I'm sure." Luke stood around his bedroom, the yellow light of a couple lamps being soaked in by his black walls.
Ava was closest to the lamp, leaning her elbows on the table as she began reading. The letter felt weird in her hands as she read it, but she thinks it's only because Luke was reading it with her over her shoulder, sending warm air down her neck.
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Ava sighed, the emotional weight of the letter feeling heavier than she originally thought. The crossed out Lukey, the obvious remnants of a relationship she would never quite be able to truly be apart of, even when she was holding Delilah's feelings in her hands.
It was hard sometimes to remember that Delilah was a person, not just a name that used to leave Luke's mouth in a tumble of tears and bitterness. This letter reminded her that there was more to people than just an image in her mind, and she wasn't sure that she liked it. Still, she wouldn't put it down. So she did what she could.
She continued.
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