A hundred letters, with a hundred different promises. A hundred letters on fire.

Amari felt on fire to, as she tossed each letter into the burning pile of tin. Earlier that day when she bought the bag, she wished to find something unique to gift Lue for her eighteenth birthday. Not to find a life hidden in a tiny bag.

Each letter was a plea to a boy who’d never hear his lovers hidden words.

𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬.

𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐.

All b.s she knew wasn’t true. Amari was no expert in love. Her deadbeat father was only a name she knew, and all her last lovers showed their care in fistfuls. By the time she was eighteen, Amari experienced as much love as street rat. But she knew that no one could love someone endlessly. Not in the way that these letters made it seem.

“I’m doing you a favor” Amari said to no one, throwing the rest of the letters into the fire. Her fingers danced with adrenaline, thrumming to keep the letters close to her heart. “If she loved you, she would have sent them.”

Amari looked around the dark backyard of Lues house, where most except a few black out drunk teens slumped. She could almost picture the face of the woman who wrote the letters, glassy eyes filled with hope soon crushed. Good.

With one final poke at the fire, Amari slid back inside the house to grab another can of beer.

What she refused to acknowledge though, was the single letter she kept in the pocket of her jeans.

𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥.

𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦. 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦. 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰.