It had always stared at him in the face. He respected her and she respected him, or so he thought. With that, he couldn’t just open it up. But you know something? Today was different.
Today made it three years since it had been laying on his table, untouched.
His curiosity was very much alive today. He had suppressed every monstrous journalistic curiosity in him for three good years.
If she didn’t want him to open it she would’ve come back and taken it away ever since. She left it there. She left it there and never came back for it. Or. For him.
He stood by the pavement of a bridge and looked across.
“Wavy, curly, seesaw, up and down…” He muttered to himself as he watched the river tides.
If only he had known all that she had been going through.
If only he hadn’t been too busy trying to be the best he could be.
If only he had told her that he loved her more often.
I sigh. If only he had listened to me before he had jumped in too.
Maybe he could’ve heard me tell him that where there’s life, there’s hope. Perhaps, he could’ve heard me whisper into his soul that she had left it there on purpose, for him to open up to the last page. But he never did.
“Just remember that if I can, I’ll hold your hands each time you’re low.
I’ll always think of you no matter how far we are. You were my first, and Jeff, I love you. I really do.
She had written.