KeeganRuss

"Letter without an address"

He first saw her in the spring, when the blossoming trees seemed to have deliberately spread their white and pink clouds against the backdrop of her smile. She was standing at a bus stop, reading a book and holding a paper cup of coffee in her hand. For some reason, his heart remembered everything - the bent corner of the page, the pattern on the coffee lid, and even the wind that touched the strands of her hair.

Every morning he began with hope: what if he saw her again? Sometimes she came, sometimes she didn't. But he continued to wait. So a month passed. He didn't know her name, didn't know where she lived, but he felt that he had been in love for a long time.

One day he decided. He wrote a letter. Without a name, without an address, only sincerity on paper:

"You don't know me. But every day when I see you with a book in your hands and morning coffee, the day becomes brighter. Maybe it's stupid, but I think about you more often than I admit to myself."

He left the letter on the bench where she usually sat. And he never came back.

A week later, in the same place, on the same bench, there was a new envelope:

"I noticed you a long time ago. I just didn't know how to approach you. Thank you for the letter. I'll wait for you tomorrow. Same time. With a book and coffee."

You take the bus to work every morning with a book and a coffee)