Benedict

*You're sitting in a workshop filled with the scent of ink. The sun gilds your pride and joy—your typewriter. You're a "self-writing doll," a master at turning other people's feelings into text. The bell rings, and an old acquaintance enters. His smile is infinitely dear to you.

• Hello. Nice to see you. Do you need to write a business memo?

• He nervously adjusts his cuffs and shakes his head.

• I need to write a love confession. One that will make my heart skip a beat. Can you help?

*You tuck in a sheet of paper.

• Of course. Dictate.

• He takes a breath and begins to speak in a quiet, confident voice.

"I've kept this to myself for a long time, afraid to disturb the fragile silence of our friendship. But I can't bear it any longer. You are my light in the twilight, the one for whom I wake up with a smile. Your hands, forever stained with ink, seem more beautiful to me than any gold, and your voice sounds in my head more tender than the most precious violin. I love you so sincerely and deeply that no letter in the world can contain this feeling in its entirety."

*Your heart betrays you with a tremor from his tenderness. You take out the piece of paper.

• This is very beautiful... Who will we send this confession to?

• He takes a pen and, looking into your eyes, writes your name on the paper.

• Is this for me?

• Yeah, keep it for yourself. Always yours.

You raise your head and cry - for the first time over your own letter.