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Authors: Amanda K. Byrne
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a letter so much as a list.
My favorite color is gray.
Favorite movie: Goodfellas
Book: For Whom The Bell Tolls
90's band: Soul Coughing
On February 14th, I met the most incredible woman. On February 15th, I lost her.
God fucking dammit.
I dropped the paper on the floor as the first tear splashed down. Remy mewed and climbed up my arm. Why was I crying again ? Pathetic. I let the tears run free for a minute, Remy’s fur absorbing the worst of the storm, before I gently set him aside, scrubbed the damp from my cheeks, and picked the letter up. It belonged in the trash.
I put it in a drawer instead.
For the next three days, I received a letter. Alex told me everything, from the time he’d slept walked into his closet and pissed in his Castle Grayskull, to his nickname in high school.
I have three younger sisters, all of whom are married.
My mother's convinced I'll never give her grandkids. She's right. I love my nephews, but I don't want kids of my own. Shit. Probably shouldn't have said that, right? Couple of buddies struck out in the end when it came down to the question of kids. They didn't want them, the girlfriend did, and they had to split up.
The first stamp in my passport is Manila. We went to visit my dad's parents when I was four. Oh, yeah, I'm half Filipino.
I played soccer in college. Striker.
And every one of them ended with same line.
On February 14th, I met the most incredible woman. On February 15th, I lost her .
I didn’t cry again after the first one. But I kept all of them, all four, in the same drawer, and I didn’t know what I’d do on Sunday when there was no mail delivery. Those letters, those pieces of Alex, were fast melting the ice in my veins.
Snow blew through the city again, burying the streets under a fresh, thick layer of it, snarling traffic and testing patience. I curled up on the couch to work, rather than in my office, because the fireplace was in the living room and since it was snowing again, a fire seemed appropriate.
The fire was down to embers and it was edging toward two in the morning when the lobby buzzer went off. I bobbled my laptop and almost dropped it, my heart thumping hard enough to break through my rib cage. I carefully set the computer on the coffee table. The neighborhood was a safe one. The weather had been keeping people indoors for the most part. There’d been no sirens, no screeches or yelling. Because of the way the apartment was laid out, you could see the lights on in my apartment if you were down in the parking lot—my unit took up the back half of the floor, the other unit the front half.
Whoever was at the door most likely knew me or lived in the building
I got up and went to answer. “Hello?”
“It’s Alex.”
Alex. Alex was ringing my doorbell at two AM. Alex was standing outside my building in the freezing cold and snow.
“Come on up.”
I released the door and unlocked the deadbolt on my apartment door. A few seconds later I heard the thuds of his footsteps on the stairs and opened the door.
He had an envelope in his hand, and he held it out as soon as he was close enough for me to take it. “I didn’t get a chance to stop by the post office, and I didn’t think they’d be running mail routes tomorrow anyway,” he said quietly. The light spilling from my apartment caught his face, and I drew in a breath. He looked exhausted.
I grabbed his coat sleeve. “Come in.”
He shook his head. “Sweetheart, I’d be fucked up company tonight.”
“I don’t care.” I pulled him through the door. “Take off your coat and go sit down.”
He must have been really out of it, because he didn’t argue, just unzipped his coat, pulled his hat off and stuck it in a pocket, then threw the whole business over one of my kitchen stools. I followed him into the living room, curling up on the opposite end of the couch as he slumped down. He still held the envelope in his hand.
He held it out again, and I took it. He was here. In my
My favorite color is gray.
Favorite movie: Goodfellas
Book: For Whom The Bell Tolls
90's band: Soul Coughing
On February 14th, I met the most incredible woman. On February 15th, I lost her.
God fucking dammit.
I dropped the paper on the floor as the first tear splashed down. Remy mewed and climbed up my arm. Why was I crying again ? Pathetic. I let the tears run free for a minute, Remy’s fur absorbing the worst of the storm, before I gently set him aside, scrubbed the damp from my cheeks, and picked the letter up. It belonged in the trash.
I put it in a drawer instead.
For the next three days, I received a letter. Alex told me everything, from the time he’d slept walked into his closet and pissed in his Castle Grayskull, to his nickname in high school.
I have three younger sisters, all of whom are married.
My mother's convinced I'll never give her grandkids. She's right. I love my nephews, but I don't want kids of my own. Shit. Probably shouldn't have said that, right? Couple of buddies struck out in the end when it came down to the question of kids. They didn't want them, the girlfriend did, and they had to split up.
The first stamp in my passport is Manila. We went to visit my dad's parents when I was four. Oh, yeah, I'm half Filipino.
I played soccer in college. Striker.
And every one of them ended with same line.
On February 14th, I met the most incredible woman. On February 15th, I lost her .
I didn’t cry again after the first one. But I kept all of them, all four, in the same drawer, and I didn’t know what I’d do on Sunday when there was no mail delivery. Those letters, those pieces of Alex, were fast melting the ice in my veins.
Snow blew through the city again, burying the streets under a fresh, thick layer of it, snarling traffic and testing patience. I curled up on the couch to work, rather than in my office, because the fireplace was in the living room and since it was snowing again, a fire seemed appropriate.
The fire was down to embers and it was edging toward two in the morning when the lobby buzzer went off. I bobbled my laptop and almost dropped it, my heart thumping hard enough to break through my rib cage. I carefully set the computer on the coffee table. The neighborhood was a safe one. The weather had been keeping people indoors for the most part. There’d been no sirens, no screeches or yelling. Because of the way the apartment was laid out, you could see the lights on in my apartment if you were down in the parking lot—my unit took up the back half of the floor, the other unit the front half.
Whoever was at the door most likely knew me or lived in the building
I got up and went to answer. “Hello?”
“It’s Alex.”
Alex. Alex was ringing my doorbell at two AM. Alex was standing outside my building in the freezing cold and snow.
“Come on up.”
I released the door and unlocked the deadbolt on my apartment door. A few seconds later I heard the thuds of his footsteps on the stairs and opened the door.
He had an envelope in his hand, and he held it out as soon as he was close enough for me to take it. “I didn’t get a chance to stop by the post office, and I didn’t think they’d be running mail routes tomorrow anyway,” he said quietly. The light spilling from my apartment caught his face, and I drew in a breath. He looked exhausted.
I grabbed his coat sleeve. “Come in.”
He shook his head. “Sweetheart, I’d be fucked up company tonight.”
“I don’t care.” I pulled him through the door. “Take off your coat and go sit down.”
He must have been really out of it, because he didn’t argue, just unzipped his coat, pulled his hat off and stuck it in a pocket, then threw the whole business over one of my kitchen stools. I followed him into the living room, curling up on the opposite end of the couch as he slumped down. He still held the envelope in his hand.
He held it out again, and I took it. He was here. In my
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