bundle of letters
Inside was a bundle of letters. The stack looked aged, envelopes yellowed and brittle at the edges. My fingers hovered over them, hesitating before picking them up.
Each was sealed with care, bearing no immediate clues. I untied the twine cautiously and pulled out the top letter.
As I unfolded it, a soft, musky scent wafted out. The handwriting was unmistakably Mark’s but strikingly different, more intimate and poetic than I’d ever seen.
