But this morning, Rosie did something different. She pulled the letter out. She smoothed the creases. And she walked, not ran, to the post office.
She never sent that one either. She sent a cheerful postcard: “Everything’s great! How’s Boston?” rosie love rosie
Dear Alex, I love you. Not like a friend. Not like a sister. I love you the way I loved you when we were fifteen and you held my hand during a thunderstorm. I love you the way I should have told you a thousand times. Please don’t go. Or if you go, take me with you. But this morning, Rosie did something different