Walter decided to answer.
He carefully folded a sheet of cream-colored paper.
“Dear Friend,
You don’t know me.
I’m an old man who almost forgot what kindness feels like.
Your letter arrived on a day when I truly needed it.
Thank you.
Whoever you are, never stop writing.
Because your words have already changed one life.”
He placed the letter back inside the mailbox.
Two days later…
It disappeared.
A week later…
Another appeared.
—
For nearly twelve months, they exchanged letters.
Neither knew the other’s identity.
Emma wrote about school.
Walter wrote about history.
Emma asked what autumn looked like before smartphones.
Walter described neighborhoods where children knocked on every door asking friends to come outside.
Emma confessed she missed her father.
Walter admitted he still talked to Margaret every evening while watering the flowers she had planted years ago.
Slowly…
The letters became longer.
More honest.
More personal.
Neither realized they were helping heal the other.
