LETTERS NEVER DELIVERED · Mayuri
Dear Mr. Antares,
I'm filing a complaint against your apartment.
The plants receive individual care schedules. Your running shoes have their own special place. Your medals are polished. But somehow my pink mug keeps migrating to the back of the cupboard, and I have found one of your socks in the basket where I keep my hair ties.
I suspect sabotage.
Also, I saw the way you looked at my little stuffed sun this morning. You can't tell me he isn't cute. He has a beautiful smile and a very sunny disposition. You could learn something from him.
All teasing aside, I spent today helping Nalla arrange the new seedlings at the conservatory. One of the sun-lilies had leaned toward a patch of light so narrow I almost missed it. I moved its pot, and by afternoon it was standing straight again.
It made me think of you.
Not because you're a flower. Although I would absolutely pay to see you deal with that comparison.
It's because you're always noticing the small things. Whether I've skipped lunch. Which fruit I want from the market. The exact amount of light your spiravine needs. You pretend you're not sentimental, but you remember things other people let slip away.
You even kept that tenth-place race number on the wall.
I know you wish you'd finished first. I know you'll train like a lunatic until you do. But I'm glad I was there for the day that didn't go the way you planned.
It turned out pretty wonderfully for me.
Love you, Sunshine. Mayuri
P.S. I watered your plants. According to your spreadsheet. Don't have a solar event about it.