“My Darling Margaret,
It’s been a year, give or take. The calendar says it’s spring, but the house still feels like February — gray, cold, and far too quiet.
I keep forgetting and setting the table for two. I even caught myself pouring your tea last Tuesday, just the way you liked it — one sugar, no milk. I stared at the steam until it faded, like your voice in the hall, like your scent on the pillows.”
―
Mohamed Ezzat,
Letters I Never Sent : A Collection of unsent Emotions Across Time