Page 67 of Returned Mail

See if it passes.

I find myself writing her anyway. I sit with a blank page balanced against my knee. For a long time, nothing comes.

But then finally, I find the words.

Mia,

I got your letter.

I stare at the sentence. Brilliant. Almost twenty years in the military and apparently this is the best I can do.

I exhale loudly, and I keep going.

I'm not going to lie. I was angry. You opened seventeen letters that weren't yours.

That's a hell of an introduction.

For the first time in days, the corner of my mouth moves a little.

I'm still not sure how I feel about it.

But you told me the truth about what you did. You didn't have to.

I stop, cross out the next sentence, and start again.

And you sent Monica's letter.

I wish I could say I didn't know. I think part of me did.

Knowing and seeing it written down are different things. So thank you.

I would rather know than keep writing to someone who had already left.

You said you still have my letters.

My jaw tightens. I almost write, burn them, but I don’t.

Also, for the record, Sergeant Barkley is not actually a sergeant. He has no official rank and has contributed nothing to this operation except theft.

Where the hell did that come from? I rub a hand over my face. She read the letters, so she knows about the dog. It’s too late now. I looked at the line, read it twice, and decided to leave it.

I hope the apartment is treating you okay.

The window sticks when it rains. You have to lift it a little before you pull.

And the light is best around seven, depending on the time of year.

I can see the place as I write. The living room. The kitchen. That stupid window. Too much. I almost cross it out. Don't.

Thanks for writing.

I'm safe.

—George

I stare at those two words. She said she hoped I was. And now, for some very strange reason, I want her to know. I feel like she deserves to know that I’m okay.

I read the letter once. It sounds like me. Unfortunately. I fold it before I can change anything. The envelope sits beside my knee. I write the address from memory. Then her name.