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The Letter
Aria
I grasp the letter from my parents in my hands tightly and breathe it in, wishing I could smell my mother’s perfume, my father’s aftershave, on the paper. It only smells like a regular sheet of paper, nothing else, not even a trace of the gross smelling apartment I left them behind in. I feel bad that I can’t even pick up a fine trace of them, not even with my super smelling abilities. But at least I have something they touched, something they held in their hands, and their thoughts.
I go to rip the letter open but realize the envelope has already been slit open at the top, from a letter opener. I feel violated as I pull the piece of paper from it’s container. Who had opened my mail? Why would they do that?
It doesn’t take me long to realize it had to be someone from Kurts&r
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