Things I Couldn't Say

 I left this letter behind a notebook with embroidered flowers,  there something about it felt like it might understand. Like... maybe it’s held other secrets before.

The letter inside is soft. Hesitant. Like someone stood on the edge of saying something that mattered… and then didn’t. Not quite.

It’s written like breath on cold glass; brief, foggy, fading.
Not a confession.
Just a pause. A feeling that nearly reached the surface.

“It wasn’t much. Just a little ‘I miss you’ that got stuck in my throat.”

“A look I gave your reflection instead of your eyes.”

There’s no signature.
Just a final thought pressed into the corner like a whisper that never arrived:

You didn’t see it in time.

This letter wasn’t dropped to be dramatic. It’s quieter than that. Sadder, maybe.
Or just honest in the way only a ghost of a moment can be.

I don’t know who it was meant for.
But I know what it feels like to be full of almosts.

So I left it behind.
In case someone else has felt it too.

I wrote it down so I could let it go,

— Elsie Thorne