A crumpled paper found. Softened through the wrinkles of time. Pen ink muddled, water stained or tears? Words, faded now, the hurt had not. I am left to wonder who? Opening to smooth the deeply etched request, I read simple words rejected in haste.
My dear Molly,
I am sorry. I love you. Won’t you stay?
My eyes misty and I wish for his second chance.