THE COLOR OF THE SKY

I found it when they tore out the kitchen. It had slipped under the cabinet through a small crack behind the trash bin. Look, it’s almost intact, the glue that once sealed it has given up. The address… it’s not a received letter, it’s one that was never sent. The stamp, untouched, likely from the old tenant. The whole thing feels aged and the chances that this David still lives at that address are slim. Switzerland. Where is that? And anyway, the writer must have believed it gone, never meant to be read.

Yes, I read it. Immediately. Once I realized I could open it without tearing. It was written by someone named Gary. From one friend to another. Throw it away? No, I can’t anymore. I understand you want to respect the writer’s intention, but… Here, read it. …

You’re right, it’s beautiful. Don’t hold back, I shed a tear as well. Imagine breaking free from a friendship so poisonous, moving on, forgetting it all, and then, years later, receiving this. Wow… it changes the color of the sky, it turns the room inside out. It’s the letter of an alchemist. Of course, when you’re not involved, you can’t know everything. Still, to discover that actions once thought of as lead were in truth gold… That’s how I read it.