Love letters are tricky things. You know it. That is why you never asked your father to teach you even when you saw the beautifully crafted one he wrote to Banke hidden in his silver-coated briefcase. Banke is not your mother. So who is she? Oooh, so Daddy did these things too. The handwriting, you noticed looked like that of a child, consciously scrawled cursive letters, effort and meaning in every of them. If it hadn’t been for the way the writing was- and maybe the kind of paper it was written on-, you would have thought Daddy was cheating on mummy. Thankfully he wasn’t.
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Sunday, 9 March 2014
LOVE LETTERS
Love letters are tricky things. You know it. That is why you never asked your father to teach you even when you saw the beautifully crafted one he wrote to Banke hidden in his silver-coated briefcase. Banke is not your mother. So who is she? Oooh, so Daddy did these things too. The handwriting, you noticed looked like that of a child, consciously scrawled cursive letters, effort and meaning in every of them. If it hadn’t been for the way the writing was- and maybe the kind of paper it was written on-, you would have thought Daddy was cheating on mummy. Thankfully he wasn’t.
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