A Space

Dear Lucy,

I'm sitting at the opposite end while I write this letter to you.
The space between us is filled with the sound of drizzling raindrops.
I can't say a word.
You can't see me.
So much to say.
As I sit here, I can feel the chilly breeze caress my face.
Gentle enough to soothe the strange bitterness in me.
But it's cold.

Love,
Jack
7 January 2007