Category : Stories

Sub Category : Drama

The pages burn, sending smoke curling upwards, cloaking the letters. I watch them curl and blacken, the words, written so carefully in black ink, almost peeling off the page. 

Those letters have spent almost forty years in the attic. Hidden, for forty years, so I wouldn't find them. 

I wonder, as I watch the pages burn, what compelled my mother to write them. Those letters to the mysterious man I've never known, my father. And now they burn, and I watch their clandestine words go up in smoke, and I am changed.