November 10, 1969

The year was 1969, supposedly, not that years or numbers are relevant, after all counting is lame. Storytelling is not my skill, and neither is time traveling, but I'd like to assume it's the same a using a clock backwards. She told me to write about the letter, so I asked her

"What letter?" Mostly because there are 26 in the alphabet, so the letter wasn't very specific. She answered me, eventually, telling me that there had been a letter sent, the type that you mail, through the postal service, the one that the government funds. But I had never revived a letter from her, in fact the last letter I revised had been nearly a decade ago from a colleague of mine, oddly enough we share the same name, just different spellings, and it isn't even an obscure name, not even an obscure spelling, not that it matters. She attempted to clarify the content of the letter, but instead she just told me about the sender, a sexy Russian model, which left the content of the letter still a mystery. She wasn't to happy when I told her I hadn't received it, but the tense atmosphere was lifted, when we both heard a knock on the door, because it would be strange if only one of us heard it. I asked her if she'd mind checking, who had been so rude to interrupt our conversation, but when she looked out the peep hole and through the door, there wasn't a soul in sight. Just to be safe, she opened the door, finding in her words " a mysterious red letter".

"What letter?" I asked her again, because to my surprise, at this point there will still 26 in the alphabet, so a red one wasn't very specific.

"R" She told me. Outside my door lay the letter R, which to be honest, meant absolutely nothing to me, except for that there could be a slight chance that she had been watching today's newest show aired on public broadcasting channels, which would be quite odd, saying it isn't really geared at our age range. She closed the door, leaving the letter outside, and sat down in front of the fireplace, reasonable behavior for early November, when it's fire season. She quickly changed the topic as if the letter and the sexy Russian model weren't important anymore and began speaking of birds of paradise. Just as she begins speaking about peacocks, another knock is heard on the door, I'd like to say both of us heard this knock, because that would be normal, but it would also be lying, because only I heard the knock.Even odder, she was closest to the door, so when I asked her if she heard the knock, she takes the time digest my words, and decides she's scared, of both the knock and that only I heard it. To alleviate her fears I go to check the door, making what I have been told had been a mistake, I open the door with out first looking through the peep hole, finding another letter. Surprisingly enough, it is another letter of the alphabet, the letter "U" written in yellow, laid to the right of the R. I thought it would be quite interesting if these letters were to spell a word, but now was no time to guess, because we had no idea how many letters the to word had, and 1817 words started with those two letters, so it would take a lot of guessing to find the right one. I leave the letters outside, and return to the comfort of our fireplace room. Informing her that it was nothing, just another letter, and she didn't hear it because of the crackling of the fireplace. This does nothing to comfort her, and instead she is just more on edge, as if she knew something I didn't.