Sitting at his desk of solid, marked and scarred, reclaimed oak, he writes Christmas cards.
He inks in the names of family, friends and dim distant relatives with his fat Mont Blanc fountain pen, sending midnight blue best wishes in his distinctive hand.
Dark calligraphy on pure white.
He tries her name in one. The nib smoothly traces her curves and lines, flowing over her adored letters.
For a moment he imagines her reading it. The thought is bitter-sweet with possibility and impossibility.
It can never be sent.
He tears the card into small pieces.
They flutter down like snow into his waste paper basket.
I wrote this last year. But it has applied more than once over the years. And perhaps this one too.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Fabian Perez