Sherry’s Letter

Sherry brewed a cup of coffee and gazed out at the pearl droplets clung to the windowsill, she thought of Charlie and how they used to wrap around each other and sink behind a fur of the grassland on top of the hill, then they’d paint their naked bodies on the days the sky cried blue. Suddenly the eerie memories swarm over her like a dark shadow, for the first time she was allowing herself to feel all the feelings she suppressed since their breakup. Her hands quaked so that her pumpkin spice chai spilled on silk drapes. “Enough with this Seperation anxiety; she thought, “it’s time to elucidate and heal”.

With that she grabbed her golden Swarovski pen, the one he got her for her graduation; and a notepad. the one with both their faces printed on, from their anniversary. She heaved a sigh of vulnerability and began to write amidst shaky hands.

Dearest Charlie,

There couldn’t be any two people in the universe more different from each other than the two of us. You with your eastern europianisch sentiments and I, from the West of Africa, yet we found ourselves, despite languages, war, and race. We nestled in each others arm and watched our love blossom like an Infant into it’s youth, but all the time you wanted a real infant, ours, yet i was unapologetically married to my work. I painted a picture of us together, with our poodle visiting the seven wonders together, having a coffee at every train stop, while you painted a picture of us buying a home in the suburban with a big garden and 2 Infants, and though years went by, our stand never wavered. How did it take us so long to realise, we weren’t different because of any ethnic-biased apocryphal lies but simply because of who we wanted to be ? I miss you Charlie and my heart shatters to think of something so beautiful become so damaged, but this farewell letter to you, is also a love letter to myself, something I haven’t been able to do until now.

There is a little sparkle of hope knowing that you can be who you are, even if it’s with someone else. P.S.My regards to Hannah and to your 8-month old Paul, Love and kisses.

Sincerely, Sherry.

The next morning she woke up and slid the letter into the post box, just before the postman makes his rounds, moments later, she could swear she had wings growing out from between her shoulder blades.

A week later, she found a letter addressed to her, from Charles.


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