Postcard

It’s been fifteen years since he had heard from her. The postcard with her name on it, in the mail this morning, put a smile on RJ’s face. What he read made his heart sing.

When RJ fell for her, he fell hard. God he loved her. Still does. He could still taste her lips.

Her name was Heather. She always hated being named after a flower. She made everyone call her Cindy, her middle name.

It almost killed him when Cindy went back to Chicago, and to him. Cindy thought she’d be happy, even though RJ knew it wouldn’t be true.

RJ read and reread the postcard until he knew it by heart.

RJ. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. Those few minutes on the phone every week, makes me wish I never left you. If you still feel the same way, the answer is yes. Love Cindy.

A week later, the moving truck pulled into the drive way.

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