A Letter to Elizabeth
Just a short epistolary story.
Well, I went and done something stupid tonight. For those familiar with TvTropes, I spent a good deal of time there today. Along my random tabbing, I opened the page for Tear Jerker, and then, in my stupidity, read the whole dame page for Real Life. Understandably, this left me in somewhat of a down mood, and I can think of naught else to do but write. Let's see where this takes us. Fair warning: it probably won't be pleasant.
To the world,
To my friends,
Dearest Elizabeth,
This is a novel experience for me, writing a letter. This is my first time writing one of my own volition, ones previous being forced on me by grade school teachers. I cannot recall the lessons learnt there, so I hope you will forgive any errors I make with regards to letter etiquette, if such a thing exists anymore.
I'd like to firstly thank you for the chocolates. It has been ages since I've indulged my sweet tooth. I've been too busy, as ridiculous as it sounds as an excuse for not buying chocolate. The idea simply hasn't occured. It's typical of you to realize what I want or need before I do. Actually, many ideas haven't occured to me of late.
Secondly, I'd like to thank you for you. Through all my years, you have been my only avian friend, and even now you are the closest of all my friends. Since the beginning, you have been my confidant, my supporter, my anchor at times. I've said "Thank you" before, but I still feel it to be a completely inadequate acknowledgement for all you've done. I'm not sure that if I spent twenty years trying that I could ever come close to repaying you. I know you would tell me never to try, but I wish to. Truly, Elizabeth, you are a miracle of so much greater impact that changing water into wine could ever be.
Knowing you as I do, you're probably blushing now as you read this. You would call yourself just an average Jane. Yet nothing is average about you, be it your exceedingly bright blue feathers or your gift for eliciting smiles.
For myself, I can claim no manner of extraoridinariness to match yours. Indeed, it has be commented that the only thing that distinguishes me from most male mice is the silver hoop that adorns my right ear. I am, in many respects, average. We've agreed before that we are not the most similar of people; ergo, you cannot be average. So there.
I'm rambling, as I always do. I apologize, as I always do. Perhaps I should cut to the chase, but to be honest, I'm not quite sure what the chase is. I just wanted to write this letter to you.
There are some things I should say before I bring this letter to a close, however. The first, I suppose, has already been said. Thank you. You have done more for me than you can ever know. All the events leading up to the publication of my first book can be traced back to you, whether you know it or not. You were the one to turn my life around. Without you, the last ten years would not have been possible. I will forever treasure what you have done.
Secondly, I have a gift for you. I suppose you could call it reciprocation for the chocolate. I have left on the kitchen table a shoebox for you. Inside, you will find a manuscript I wrote years ago but never published. Do with it as you will. You will also find a small doll. You know the one I mean. I found it only two days ago, and I really could not pass up the chance to get it for you. Lastly, you will find in that shoebox the little book you keep pestering me about. You finally have my permission to read it.
As you know, sometimes words fail even me. This is one of those times. I will close my letter, first and only, here, my dearest Elizabeth. I pray that you continue to smile everyday as you always have before. Best of luck to you in your furture endeavours.
I will always remain your friend.
Farewell,
Henrick
Congrats if you read the subtext. Probably not too hard, but I think I'll leave it out of the tags. It's something that I think is better left inferred than explicitly stated. Good night, everybody.