It was a lovely quirk of fate that living at number 24, my mailbox held the promise of his kisses, scrawled on a receipt, or a postcard he’d bought on a whim in his travels, or a torn out page from a book of poetry, with the familiar ‘xxx’ in his swirling longhand.
We had a game where he’d send me a message with a separate envelope for words beginning with the same letter of the alphabet, like a jumbled whole word version of alphabet soup, and I’d have to make out his intended sentences and sentiments.
The fun was in the stealth operation of checking the mail boxes in my street, from houses 1 through to 23, then 25 and 26, never knowing which letters would feature, hoping the occupants didn’t catch me in the act, or worse still, check their mail before me.
Prompt courtesy of Sonya’s Three Line Tales, Week 16, although for me this is week 3 of participating. If you’d like to give it a go, follow the link for details. Okay, so perhaps very long sentences to fit into 3 lines. I hope you took a breath if reading aloud.
Work in Progress 