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alt_lupin at 07:35pm on 11/09/2008
alt_lupin at 07:35pm on 11/09/2008A terrible night.
My father sent along a box of my mother's things, and in it I found something quite... unnerving. Touching. Devastating. A letter I never knew I'd received, dated 28 October 1981. The postmark is still legible. The ink still green. The contents... deceptively cheerful and completely devastating.
It still smells faintly of sandalwood and currant.
Excuse me. I'm not certain I can continue to write, at this time... I'm sorry.
My father sent along a box of my mother's things, and in it I found something quite... unnerving. Touching. Devastating. A letter I never knew I'd received, dated 28 October 1981. The postmark is still legible. The ink still green. The contents... deceptively cheerful and completely devastating.
It still smells faintly of sandalwood and currant.
Excuse me. I'm not certain I can continue to write, at this time... I'm sorry.
(no subject)
I oughtn't write more or they'll see and be angry, but thank you, thank you, thank you -
(no subject)
Don't thank me yet, Hermione. I'm afraid sometimes my actions tend to make things worse for people rather than better.
But you are more than they see you. You are more than most of them shall ever become.
Do not forget this.
(no subject)