I replaced the letter back in the envelope and returned it to it’s drawer.

That letter weighed on my thoughts over the next few days. That young woman, writing to the man she hoped one day to marry. That the letter stayed in the secret drawer was a puzzle. Did she never marry? If she found her one true love why didn’t she give him the letter?

My heart ached at the thought of her.

Thoughts of her began to obsess me. I found myself prowling antique stores and purchased an old pen and ink set. Parchment paper and India ink soon followed. I even bought some two cent stamps from 1888.

One night I sat down at the secretary and wrote to her.