It was an unexpected question.
Her cheeks turned red. But not just from the cold as she tore open his letter standing next to her mailbox on the chilly December evening.
Once inside, she snuggled up with her self-assigned cup of cozy in hand – s’mores hot chocolate – and pulled a pillow onto her lap to steady the notebook on.
Her gaze seemed absent as her handmade notebook cover adorned with hundreds of multicolored beads reflected the bright white twinkling lights of the Christmas tree next to the couch.
She stared into distant memories of a moment long lost ten years ago.
Even when both hearts are ready, if one fails to recognize the magic of that moment, it will pass. She had learned that by now.
Squeezing her pen, she began to write the words in her best cursive.
It wasn’t easy. She kept seeing his face. It showed up when she wrote the date in the left hand corner. It appeared when she wrote the title of her new flash fiction piece on the right side.
Everything would be alright soon, she told herself. Four more weeks until she would see him again – not an imagined face that time.
She would be right there, waiting.