EM-Drabbles – Eighty-Six

The letter was old.
He found it under the carpet when he took it up to get a new one. It must have been pushed under the door and somehow slid beneath the carpet.
The handwriting was hers. Dramatic, full of curlicues and flounces, just as she always was – until she vanished.
Sitting by the hearth he read the words she had written twenty years before and pushed under his door.
I can explain. Meet me tonight in our special place. Xxx.
Twenty years too late.
He threw the letter on the fire and added another log from the pile.

E.M. Swift-Hook

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