



The letter
Since always, words had been the way she had found to express herself, to get rid of everything. And that day, it had been no different, on the contrary, on that particular day, she had needed it almost as much as she needed him. Her heart couldn't take it anymore, it was too much for her poor heart, and too much for the girl. It was as if she were going to collapse at any moment, shatter like a crystal cup, because, the great truth was: even if he didn't know about her existence (...) every little action of his reflected on her, hit her, made her ascend to heaven or decay on earth (...). She needed to get rid of it, she needed it urgently (...). And so, sitting on her bed, she started writing him a letter, about what it was like to love him, about how difficult and complex it was to love him.
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