letter fifty two

To: Love (Cupid, Amor, Many Splendored Thing, Aphrodite, The Moon Hitting Your Eye Like a Big Pizza Pie, etc.)
From: M. H.
Subject: Stalking must stop!

Love,

You’ve got to quit stalking me. Don’t think I don’t notice, because I do—your shape in the shadows in the parking garage, the half-reflection behind me in a store window, the footprints you leave under my window after a wet night. I see signs of you everywhere, but only for a moment, and when I look again… Actually, I never look again.

You have two options: (1). Just go away. Cease and desist, 100 meter restraining order, court-ordered off-shoving, or (2). Get out from under there and come to me. Meet me face to face. Introduce yourself. We’ll shake hands. Exchange business cards. Friend each other.

Either of these two options are acceptable, but all that standing in the background, turning up in corners of vacation pictures, leaving your fingerprints on the porch sliding door—no.

Hearts and stars and red balloons,

M. H.

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About danarose

Textbook ENFP, if you're into that stuff (I am SO into that stuff). I love mountains and the ocean and my largest ambition in life is getting all of the people I love to live on the same block, to cook dinner, and talk with them every night.
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