Tristan walked slowly to the house as he flipped through the mail in his hand. Bills, bills, junk mail, and …. a letter? Who was writing him a letter? Letters were something rarely heard of these days. He was trying to remember the last time he had received one. There was no return address, so he really had no clue who it might be from.
He walked inside and laid the mail down on the counter, as he walked into the kitchen to get a cold drink from the fridge. Picked up the letter again and walked over to the table and sat down. In his profession one couldn’t be too careful about mail. He was a lawyer, and there were a lot of people sitting behind bars, not feeling too happy with him.
Staring at the letter, he looked at his fish tank across the room and remembered he had to feed them. He loved his saltwater tank, with the clown fish and other brightly colored fish swimming around, darting in and out of the little caves that he had. Dodging around the plants.
Still holding the letter in his one hand, he walked over to the fish tank and shook the food in, watching the fish swim to the top to eat it.
He walked over to his overstuffed chocolate brown couch, sat down, opened the letter and slowly read it.
“I am sure you are wondering who this letter is from and I will tell you straight up that once you finish this letter you will have even more questions.
I assure you I am not a stalker and I am not trying to blackmail you.
If you think you feel nervous reading this, I feel even more nervous writing it. Many times I started this letter and many times I wadded up the paper and threw it into my wastepaper basket. I lost count as to what number this letter is.
The bottom line is I need your help and that is what gives me the courage to write as butterflies flutter around in my stomach. If you had asked me last year if I would be writing a letter to you I would have said No, but so much can happen in a year. Life is full of the unexpected!
I need to ask you a question and its a question that carries a lot of weight. A question that won’t be asked in this letter. I will be sending my next letter in a few days which will reveal more about me.”
Tristan stared at the letter in his hand for a few moments before folding it and slowly putting it back into the envelope. He listened to the gurgling of his fish tank and watched the damselfish swim around. She had a question for him? What kind of question? Who was she? Thoughts swirled in and out of his head, just like the fish darting in and out of the castle that he had recently put in there. What would the next letter say? photo credit Pinterest