Open When You Miss Me Letters Novels & Stories

Anyway, I do hope you get this letter. Love~~Kate. 15th May 2000 Okay, all I need right now is a sign. I don’t even mind a one word letter—just something to tell me you’re actually receiving this. I’m losing faith Asher, please, please, please, write me back. I love you. 16th May 2000 I thought about you today. When I was showering. Thought about… how you make love to me. I miss it… I miss you. Everything reminds me of you.

As she read his letter, she popped a grape into her mouth and let the words sink in. The letter read: Hello Beautiful, I’m sorry for the delay. Believe me, it’s far from ideal. I miss you terribly and long for the moment when I can hold you in my arms again. I yearn for your enchanting smile, your intoxicating scent, and the comforting presence of your body beside mine as I fall asleep and wake up each day. I’m doing everything I can to expedite this meeting, and I’ll inform you of the new date as soon as it’s set. We will be reunited before you know it. I know patience is hard, but please hang in there. I love you more than words can express and will be eagerly awaiting your next letter.

I loved you through every visit and every letter and every moment of the last three years when loving you was the only thing that felt real. And I'm going to keep loving you. Even when I'm free. Even when proximity makes it harder. Even when we have to figure out what this actually is instead of what we've been imagining it could be. See you in five days. — C. I read the letter. Folded it carefully. Put it in the box where I kept all the others. 156 letters. One for every week he'd been gone. And in five days, I'd find out if they'd been enough.

“But I’ll be there.” He leaves and the curtain sways. Night air cools the sweat on my skin and his cum between my thighs. I lie alone in a ruined bed with an open window and the ghost of a man I may never touch again. I should close it, instead, I leave it open, and pull the covers up my body. Thursday morning, a letter slides under my door. I pick it up, coffee in hand, heart in my throat. “I’ve missed your greedy cunt. I’ll come visit same time next Tuesday.”

I took the little note between my fingers and opened it, and my breath began to hitch as I read those words that took my breath away: "If you knew how much I miss you and how long I have waited for you. I searched for you in heaven, sea and earth for years I curse those who caused your absence in my life, but the time has come for us to be together forever as it should be, my beloved Luna, and soon you'll be in my arms again.”

She opens it and looks at me. —Is it...? —I said I'd only give them to you in person. I couldn't come that month. Breaking promises isn't my style, darling —I pause briefly, waiting for her to say something, but she doesn't —It was a total of 537 days. That's two years without seeing you. In those letters, you'll find, in my own handwriting, everything I've missed about you, every flaw that draws me in. Each one also contains the memory of a song that reflects how I feel for you—songs that understand the intensity of it.

My heart began to pound a little bit more inside my chest as soon as I see that there was a small card inside. I was hesitant but I know I needed and wanted to read what is written in it. After having the guts, I opened the letter which says: Did you miss me? -Jolene No. Fucking no, it can’t be.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice.” “Sweetheart, I have a pretty damn good idea,” I said in a low voice. “Where are you? No, no, no, don’t answer that. I miss you. Did you read my letter?” “Why are you whispering?” I laughed out loud. “I’m sorry. Damn. It’s strange to hear myself laughing. I fucking miss you, Nirvana.” “I miss you, too, baby. Every damn second, I’m away from you. And yes, I read your letter, and I keep a little hope in my heart that I will see you soon.”

The ache came sharpest then, as if the silence wanted me to admit how much I missed him. His first letter arrived within a week. The envelope was plain, his handwriting steady, but inside the words were careful, almost hesitant. He described the city where he was staying, the noise of the streets below his apartment, the long hours with his new team. He wrote that he missed me most at night when the work was done, and that he kept a photograph of us on the desk by his bed. I read the letter three times before I could fold it back into its envelope, each word settling somewhere deep in me.

i know it is from thorold and I miss him so much. I unsealed the parchment slowly, the scent of cedarwood still clinging to the paper. My eyes scanned his handwriting—sharp, strong strokes that always tilted slightly to the right, like he couldn’t wait to finish saying what he felt. Calyra, I don’t know how to start this, except to say I miss you. I miss you so much, i miss the way you forget to braid your hair when you’re focused. I miss the way you hum off-key when you think no one’s listening.