It was a lazy Saturday morning, and after a very long time, she was having a completely relaxing weekend. The bed was warm as she silently looked out of the balcony window.
It was still quite dark as it was raining outside. Nothing to indicate it will be a day out of the ordinary.

She had her time making a light breakfast, observed her beloved puppy and got ready to step out as she saw that it had stopped raining.
With her dog trailing behind her she opened the door.
The box was quite big, sitting exactly in the centre of her doormat. It was only taped close and there was no address attached to it. Her dog sniffed it around and settled behind her peeping at the foreign object.

It had to be a wrong delivery. She was not expecting any and it certainly didn’t have her name. She was pretty sure it wasn’t hers.
But curious she thought maybe opening the box might help her give it to the right person.

One long tape was removed, and the box lay on her table. It was a bit heavy, it made sense when she opened it.
Hundreds of papers, all neatly folded.
Some old and some still have the crispness of fresh paper.

Letters, there were hundreds of letters to someone.
For some inconceivable reason, she felt the urge to read every one of them.
So she sat down making herself comfortable on her couch, even though a corner of her mind told her this was a complete breach of someone’s privacy. The more curious part of her convinced this was all done in goodwill so that she could find the rightful owner of these letters.
She didn’t have to read more than 10 letters to figure out, the words in each of