It was a quiet night in the old cottage. The wind whispered through the broken windows, and the moonlight touched the dusty floor like a silver ribbon. In the corner of the room, Jeffrey sat at a burnt wooden desk, holding a pen, as best he could, in his right hand.
Before he wrote, memories of the fire that destroyed half the village flooded back into his mind. After that event, Jeffrey would never see his wife again. She was taken from him forever.
How much time later, he could not know, he eventually had found the strength to put pen to paper. There was something he had to do - something he should have done long ago.
He began to write.
"My dearest Anne,
To begin with, if you are reading this, how much relief will I feel. I never was able to say goodbye. I never told you how much you meant to me, every single day we spent together. Even now, I remember the way you laughed among the flowers in the garden, the way your hands felt in mine."
A tear, as clear as glass, fell onto the paper.
"What is more, I don’t even know if you will be able to read this, yet something tells me you will. Besides, just leaving these words on paper somehow allows me to physically communicate the hidden thoughts and feelings that circle my mind daily. I needed to tell you: I have always loved you, and I always will. Please forgive me for not telling you that in life.
Moreover, this letter will benefit both of us. Something tells me you are unhappy - too many doubts crowd your mind. Doubts about me, and our relationship as wife and husband. However, those cruel rumours were not true. The importance of my position in the world of high finance left me with enemies who wished to do me harm. Consequently, they attacked both of us to destroy my reputation and my career.
As these words cross the paper, I can feel your presence, and now know this message will get across to you the eternal love I have always felt for you. Courage, Anne. Now we can both move forward to something better."
He signed the letter, "Forever yours, Jeffrey."
Jeffrey looked up at the cracked mirror in front of him, and stared into the reflection of the blackened room around him. Dark, miserable, sunless. Now he could get out of here - at last.
***********
Anne came out of the bathroom, showered, dressed and ready for work. She thought about taking her coat as the weather was going to be depressingly cold and wet, again. An eternal winter although it was the beginning of May.
She glanced around her bedroom to check all was clean and tidy the way she liked it. She would not tolerate even a speck of dust in her old cottage and was almost a fanatic at housework.
Then she saw the piece of paper on the bedside table. How did that get there? She had tidied and dusted the room first thing this morning. She walked across the room and picked it up. The first thing Anne saw was the damp stain, and somehow she knew it was from Jeffrey's tears. There were some faint marks on the paper, which she managed to make out as words:
"I have always loved you, and always will. J."
Anne could make out no more, and then even those words faded from the paper altogether, but the message was clear in her mind.
The death of her husband, Jeffrey. The terrible fire where they had both been killed two years ago. And Anne, who could not leave, would not leave, because if she did so, perhaps she would meet her husband again and learn a truth she had wanted to reject.
Now, at last, she could leave this useless lifestyle she was pretending. A ghost cleaning an old cottage that, in reality was probably a burnt ruin. Going to work every day, unseen, unheard by the living, but too distressed to leave it and move on to a better existence. Anne pulled back the curtains and looked up. Blue sky had suddenly appeared among the grey clouds, and the sun was warm through the window - inviting her to move on to a happier world.
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