Verb(s)

27 years old

Jacksonville, FL

Male

About

Mathilde was in a panic; between the cracks of her slight fingers she loosely held a pale white envelope: its contents birthing possibilities in her mind before quickly deserting them in a hemorrhage of what could be. If she could have acted calmly then, she would have; instead, she tore at the earth with bone-breaking ferocity, with breakneck carelessness, dug her shallow heels into the loosened soil, and planted herself there. She stood stolid in the earth for days: between two passive oaks. Stilled between her artless fingers, the text of the letter fell from the page into the corner of the envelope until its overwhelming mass coerced the stuck flap open: the small font littered the soil at her soiled feet. Absorbing the dewy morning's condensate, they slowly grew; and, with each passing day, they came to overtake Mathilde until a six-foot "Love always" enveloped her and swallowed her; a quiet sob was the last noise to escape her closing mouth. It was a fortunate thing that the salutation saw fit to consume her as when the last letter has grown to be too much, every poorly-written word took to fire and obliteration: "always" wasn't the last to go, though, as there was a name emblazoned in a fading cursive. But, there was no one left to recognise it, to pour over each barely-connected letter; Mathilde had given herself to the irresolute hollow of love, and no more is the pity.