I got a letter.
The name on the envelope said ‘Mary.’
My wife’s name…
It’s ridiculous, couldn’t possibly be true…
That’s what I keep telling myself…
A dead person can’t write a letter.
Mary died of that damn disease three years ago.
So then why am I looking for her?
Our ‘special place’…
What could she mean?
This whole town was our special place.
Does she mean the park on the lake?
We spent the whole day there.
Just the two of us, staring at the water.
Could Mary really be there?
Is she really alive… waiting for me?