Silent letters to you

Every morning Edgar sorted letters in the back of his small white mail truck while the sun slowly rose from the mountains around Pine Willow. The town was so small that he knew every crack on the side walk and every name on every envelope. His favorite stop had once been the newspaper office on Main Street. It smelled of warm coffee, hum of printers and a friendly receptionist. That was before Grace took the job.

They ended two years ago, quietly. No big fights, no final parting words, just distance. She wanted to move to the big city, he wanted the comfort of familiar roads. When she stayed behind in Pine Willow after all, it was almost worse, like a cruel joke. The breakup stopped being a chapter and became a daily headline. 

So each morning, he walked into that office, pretending like he did not notice how her hair fell around her face and she pretended not to notice the nametag on his breast pocket which read Graced. That was their couple name Edgar + Grace = Graced. 

She smiled like a polite stranger and he played along.

“Morning” she would say, tucking her hair behind her ear. 
“Morning” he would reply, placing the envelopes on her desk.

Somedays, her laugher, meant for a someone else, followed him back to the door like an echo of what they once shared. He wondered if she ever thought of the picnic they had at Willow Creek, or of how he massaged circles in the knot on her back when she was tired or how they quietly melted into each others hug on the first date.

One rainy day he lingered for a moment longer. She was wrapping a package, busy, unaware. Something in him ached to speak, to tell her she still lived in his quiet places. A part of him wanted to ask if she was happy, but he only cleared his throat.

“Seems like a storm is coming” he said
Grace looked up and for a moment, her gaze softened “Yeah… I can feel it”

The silence that followed held everything they would not say: apologies, what ifs, the memories of an old love that had nowhere to go. Edgar nodded, turned and left.

He was wet by the time he reached the truck. Pine Willow blurred behind a curtain of rain.

Tomorrow he would walk the same route, tomorrow she would be there.
And that was both comfort and pain.