I loved her with a passion that tore at my soul. Whenever I imagined those deep, hazel eyes it felt like my skin had snagged on a briar and wouldn’t let go. To have torn at it would have meant tearing at me and I’d already lost too much of myself. I shredded by the day, my blood like paint splattering the walls.
That’s why when the letterbox flapped open like a gaping fish and a small, white envelope soaked in her unmistakable perfume dropped to the floor, I opened it in a flash. My eyes shot past the actual words to the return address, hope emblazoned in my eyes, on my heart, in my dreams. Undisclosed, it read. The briars dug deep.