The Second Letter

I wrote you a letter. Another one. It was about many things. It started out with the basics: I miss you, how are you, I am doing well, etc.

But then I got sentimental and started talking fond memories of us making cheese and salami sandwiches and eating them by the side of Lake Whatcom. And watching the 4th of July fireworks from the roof of your office. And things of that sort. My favorite part was something along the lines of:

Remember how every night before bed I would kiss you three times? Once on the left cheek, once on the right cheek and then once on the lips? You used to say you couldn't sleep without your three kisses. It really did wonders for my ego, you know.

But then the unthinkable happened...your letter fell out of my jacket pocket as I ran across the street to deliver it to the mailbox. Hours of carefully chosen words and at least half the ink supply of a dime store fountain pen wasted. The unseasonable storm went and blew it to heck! To think that out there sits an illiterate sparrow with my perfectly worded re-counting of our first date lining his nest! It's a shame. So much for the lost art of letter writing. I'm going to cut my loses now and mail you this simple explanation before I risk tempting fate with another sappy flowery prosed spectacle.

So, dear:
Enjoy.
I miss you.
Think of what you could be reading.

Love,
Theodore.