It had begun to rain. He wasn’t really fond of the cold air and damp surroundings; he felt imprisoned. But this day was different. He was somehow enjoying the solitary confinement. He was at peace, which was altogether a novel experience for him, a person who considers himself untamed. The chilling air was an embrace he welcomed, for it somehow overpowered the coldness he felt inside.
With little ceremony, he reached for the envelope beside him. It contained a letter from someone he wasn’t expecting. Someone whom he had long ago forgotten. Or more appropriately, tried to forget. The letter was from his uncle.
They weren’t really close. He couldn’t recall the games they played when he was young nor the stories they shared. It was a memory as abstract as avant garde…or eccentricity…or even reality.
As he sat there, his mind was racing whether he was ready to face whatever truth or lie he was about to contend with. Tearing that piece of paper apart was an escape he was longing. On the other hand, intrigue was a behest that was all too hard to resist.
Slowly, he took the neatly-folded paper out of the envelope. The skewed handwriting was both alien and familiar to him. He read through its contents. Within a few minutes, he was done reading. His mind was numb. He stared into nothingness. The few sentences in the letter detailed a long-ago memory he had wished to forget. A secret he had forced himself to forget. The last verse of the letter, however, was what caused the ebb in his head. It was an apology he was not expecting. An apology for that one instance in his childhood which shaped whatever he was now. He wanted to accept but acceptance was something he restrained himself from doing. In due time, maybe. Time heals, after all.
He looked outside the window. It had begun to rain heavier. He felt lighter, as if the sky was unburdening him.
To his surprise, tears began streaming down his cheeks. The rain was a sudden consolation.