Letters from the East

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The First Letter

It arrived in October, folded small, the handwriting cramped as if the writer had been afraid of wasting paper. Elias read it standing in the doorway, then read it again sitting down.

Reading Between the Lines

What the letter did not say was louder than what it did. There was no mention of the winter, nor of the empty chair at the table.

The Reply He Never Sent

He wrote it three times that night. Each draft was braver than the last, and each went into the stove.