A Knock at the door!

A Knock at the door.

I expected the sweeper boy to collect the garbage but it turned out to be the post card that had not anything written on it but it whispered as soon as I touched it.

"She read the prose you wrote in the letters, she was crying and missing you. You weren't there but your words were. They tried to explain the moment when your heart was pouring out all the love in to those letters but they weren't enough to stop her from crying and regretting of not reading them all at the right time. I gave her all of them, all of your feelings written on them and came back bare handed. Now please free me from all this and tore me apart. It's my time to fade away with time.”

I killed the post card, closed the door and slept again. Memories have knocked the door before the morning that day.