The letter is finished. As she licks the envelope she grows excited, relishing the acrid taste of the glue. At least, she thinks, it tastes like something. Her own mouth’s taste, of late, has begun to bore her.
The letter was addressed to a Mr. Round Roundly. She had met Mr. Roundly only a few days prior, and since then had thought of little beyond his smile, his hair, his teeth, &c. He’s so handsome, she often thought, and proper too. It was this latter quality which thrilled her most of all.
Several months ago she had met a boy who, at the time, had seemed nice enough, but in the end turned out to be horribly, almost scandalously improper. She knew, she just knew, that this would not be the case with Round. She awaited his response with great anticipation.
But, as we know, few things in life are certain. Whether Mr. Roundly ever read this young woman’s letter, for instance, is not entirely certain. That he never responded to her letter, on the other hand, ranks among those very few things, it being a definite certainty.
The letter was addressed to a Mr. Round Roundly. She had met Mr. Roundly only a few days prior, and since then had thought of little beyond his smile, his hair, his teeth, &c. He’s so handsome, she often thought, and proper too. It was this latter quality which thrilled her most of all.
Several months ago she had met a boy who, at the time, had seemed nice enough, but in the end turned out to be horribly, almost scandalously improper. She knew, she just knew, that this would not be the case with Round. She awaited his response with great anticipation.
But, as we know, few things in life are certain. Whether Mr. Roundly ever read this young woman’s letter, for instance, is not entirely certain. That he never responded to her letter, on the other hand, ranks among those very few things, it being a definite certainty.
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