A Letter

We were like two mad lovers. Whenever we met, we couldn't help ourselves from crying; we were so happy to be together. We would laugh together so hard that our cheeks would start paining. We would clasp each other's hands so tightly that it almost broke our bones. Our touch was so intense, so warm, that goosebumps would erupt all over our bodies. We would talk like mad people; there were always tears of joy in our eyes. We would run after each other in the park as if we were children.

We wrote love to each other every morning. In fact, we had separate letter boxes for each other, which were labelled, "For Love".

Whenever I would pass by her house, she would call me with lovely names.

And between all this, a thought would strike me, "Are our emotions too intense for this world?".

One day, we met in the park at evening. I noticed a sign of sadness on her face; she said not a single word.

"What happened?", I asked.

" I am....going away..", she said, tears swelling up in her eyes.

"What?" I asked in awe.

"Yes.. To England, for further studies.."

"Then it is great! You should go!"

"But...I may never come back...if I get a job"

"Oh...but still, you should go!"

"I promise you that I will write a letter to you the day before I come back."

And then, she went to England. But, I was not alone. She was in my heart. I talked to her with the same intensity. And every morning, I would check the letter box.

Since that day, whenever I would pass by her house, I would stop for a moment. And when I would listen nothing, I would walk on.

Years, years, and years passed since the day she went away. And it was night time when I was walking home from my job. I was very near to her house when I passed a dustbin by. A magic, a very powerful magic, pulled me back to the dustbin. It was filled with belongings of her. There was a letter in it. Tears rolled down my face as I read it in the streetlight:

"Dear Love,

I will never give this letter to you. But, I know that you will find it. Maybe, my mother will throw it one day, and you will pick it up.

I am going to England not for studies...but for treatment. I have cancer.

I know that you will never stop checking your letter box. You shouldn't. I may even come back...but the doctor is not sure.

I think I knew this would happen. I often thought this:'Are our emotions too intense for this world?'. "

And every morning, I check the letter box. And whenever I pass by her house, I stop for a moment. When I listen nothing, I walk on.