Dwindling Down to Nothing

It was the end. He had the power to change it, but would he?

Dear Cian,

We don't exactly speak anymore. Not for lack of trying on my part. But I must admit, letters can only do so much. Being face to face is easier.

I heard that you've found someone else to love. I can't say I'm happy for you, that would be a lie. What I can say is that I hope that you're happy. That would make everything worth it.

My situation hasn't really changed since you last heard from me. The sun shines most days. The rain falls in showers when it comes. There have been few storms and even fewer threats of any inclement weather. There isn't much to say.

All I can say is I miss you. I miss the way we used to talk. I miss your smile. The way conversation flowed easily. The way we could sit in silence. You made me feel different than I do now. Special, as if I meant the world to you.

Perhaps it's better that you ignore me. Perhaps it's better that we never meet again. Perhaps, perhaps you should just continue on the path you are now. There are too many what if's in life. I shouldn't add to them.

If you want to hear from me again, you know how to contact me. I'm not going anywhere.

Alsays yours,

Lunete

Cian looked down at the note that had found its way into his hand for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. He wasn't exactly upset with Lunete, just frustrated with her assumptions. He did want to hear from her.

Her letters had slowly dwindled down from once every three days to once a month. He had replied occasionally at first, but had found it difficult to talk to her about his life.

She still loved him. That was clear. He would like to say that he didn't care, but he would have been lying. He wanted her to move on, to be happy without him. He knew that she could find someone better than him to love.

Putting the note back in his pocket he sighed and ran his finger through his hair. How was he supposed to tell her everything?

How could he tell her that he was only wooing Maia because she was like Lunete? How could he tell her that he spent more nights dreaming of her than anything else? How could he tell her anything?

Pulling a sheet of paper from a table he set pen to it determined to change her mind.

Dear Lunete,

It has been a while...