The house was in turmoil. The loud outcries of thunder reverberated through the stone walls that enclosed the tiny area he resided. The wind screeched defeat through the crack under the door. The little wet bullets which attacked the façade of the house send shivers down his spine.
Anonymous. That shall be his name. The weather outside mirrored the pandemonium he was struggling with internally. The cold feeling of rejection she left him in. He knew. She had found another man. Someone better. stronger, more affectionate, handsome…
He was never much of stunner. His left eye sagged slightly downwards when he concentrated, the bony stature he had inherited from his grandfather didn’t add to his allure either. Allure, well lack there of. But he was a loyal and fierce lover, completely and irrevocably in love with her. The bitch. Telling him she cared and replaced him with another.
He couldn’t take it anymore. He wrote a letter. A one which would describe how he was broken. He couldn’t face her abandonment. Once the letter was written he trudged to the bridge, which went over a swift meandering river. The post box was located at its centre. Through the blistering cold and spiteful rain. He didn’t care. The letter was signed. sealed and sent.
He climbed on the bridge and drew in a deep rugged breath, filling his lungs and when he could int pull in any more air… he let go. Let go of all his haunting troubles. And he fell down into the frosty river. His abyss of solitude. His only option for mirth. His lungs filled with the fridged water. The current dragged him down and all his problems along. Then he smiled and let go.
All that remains of him is that letter he sent. His last word. His legacy. His pride. The only question which remains is: Will it be delivered?