Work Text:
They are stacked neatly upon each other.
Every envelope the same.
White, blank and that stamp, with the green hills, the little red house and the sun in the background.
Her hands shake when she picks the one at the bottom, slightly yellow and rumpled.
With her tumb she smothes down the edges and sits back on her bed.
Softly she puts the letter down and then closes the drawer of her nightstand.
Then she lays down on her bed and opens the envelope.
White and blank like all of them, but what's inside is allways different.
My