It is just another day. Another day I am stuck in this place and stuck with these letters.

 

 

People no longer know the words, people no longer talk to one another, people no longer express their feelings to one another with words. So here I am, writing letters. Love letters mostly. 

 

 

They find it particularly hard to convey love, affections, longings. Those little desires, those instinctive emotions. Raw and pure.

 

 

It is not an easy job, I reckon. I study my clients’ information, every little detail, just to write letters that could truly put their feelings and characters into words, onto the papers.

 

 

I write them with pens. I write them with warmth. I write them with passion. But they ought not to be mine. It is supposed to be someone else’s, my clients'. Sometimes, I forget about myself, my existence. I ought not to exist in the letters, yet it’s me who write them. 

 

 

And I hate to write something like “I love you”. Apart from the fact that it’s not “I” to begin with.

 

 

 

Roland Barthes says, “I love you” isn’t a sentence; it is a holophrase which has no usage; it is a socially irresponsible word; it suppresses all explanations, adjustments, degrees, scruples; it is a metaphor of nothing else. 

 

 

“I love you” is meant to become “you love me”.

 

 

I wonder if my clients ever get their replies? Their “I love you too”?

 

 

 

And, do I believe in love? Probably. I daren’t to be so certain.

 

 

Yes, you can say everyone’s heart is waiting to cling onto something, someone else’s heart. Perhaps, mine too.

 

 

 

Nonetheless, my relationships do not work very well. Although my love letters are often praised as the “best”, the “most genuine”, the “most touching”. Because it’s not really me in those letters, I suppose.

 

 

I am still good friends with one of my ex-lovers. It sounds so stupid but we have decided to go back to “being friends” after dating for, like, three months? 

 

 

No wailing, no bawling eyeballs out, no pulling hair. We even had a good laugh talking about that day we confessed to each other. So I don’t know what love is, if you ask me.

 

 

 

People say I am a weird person too.

 

 

I would feel lonely but I don’t especially yearn for love. Sometimes I feel like my heart is longing for something too. But I don’t know what that something is. I would like to bury myself with words and papers than going out and hitting on strangers.

 

 

 

I remember I even recited a few lines from a poem to Seulgi when we broke up.

 

 

It’s Dark Sonnet from Neil Gaiman.

 

 

 

“I don’t think that I’ve been in love as such

although I liked a few folk pretty well

Love must be vaster than my smiles or touch”

 

 

 

I poured the warm beer into my mouth, as I continued being my pathetic poetic self. Seulgi just sat beside me chuckling, warm and understanding as she always is.

 

 

 

“In plays and poems someone understands

there’s something makes us more than blood and bone

And more than biological demands for me love’s like the wind unseen, unknown”

 

 

 

I looked at her and we laughed. I don’t know why she loved me in the first place, really. I am just one interpreter of love who doesn’t even understand love.

 

 

Once we had things “sorted out”, Seulgi left. And I was alone again.

 

 

 

“I really don’t know what I love you means

I think it means don’t leave me here alone”

 

 

 

And now, we would still go out and hang out from time to time. Like friends and as friends. Despite our busy lives.

 

 

 

As for Joy, aka Park Sooyoung, my manager or whatsoever, she is now hovering at my desk looking ready to smack my head with the files she is holding. It’s her who finds clients and talks to them for me.

 

 

“You’d better be faster or else,” She glares. “We’ll both starve for the rest of this month.”

 

 

She is pretty hot when she is serious or angry. And she is quite tall too.

 

 

 

“I will finish this up by this evening.” I fiddle with my pen and the photo of that person I am writing this letter to. “Take a chill pill. Oh, I forgot you don’t know what chill is.”

 

 

“Oh please.” She rolls her eyes. “We’re counting on you. You’re feeding mouths here, not only yours.”

 

 

 

“You know how many requests this client have, right?” I rest my chin on my palm, studying the look on her face. “It takes more time if you want it to be perfect.”

 

 

She is interesting. She got such a sweet look but she is totally a satan. I like that about her. That’s why I have been working with her for two years already.

 

 

 

“I know, in your quality we trust.” She taps her fingers on my desk. “Sometimes I wonder how a single girl like you can write such letters?”

 

 

I softly smile, “I am not always single though.”

 

 

 

“You don’t even communicate with people much, except your friends.” She however frowns. “It shouldn’t be. You should go out more.”

 

 

“Do you have a date to set me up with?”

 

 

 

“In your dreams. Oops, no,” She slyly smiles. “I bet you don’t even dream about that. I bet you don’t even want a date. Go and meet someone, it might take our business to a new peak.”

 

 

I ignore her remark and go back to the letter. So she walks away with her heels clicking on the marble floor.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

I come home late because I forgot my favorite restaurant is closed today. I had to drive to another side of the city to get what I want for dinner. 

 

 

Luckily, GPS in these days is more than reliable. They can even chat with us, remember what songs we like and set up a playlist themselves, inform us about the timely weather report and so.

 

 

I always forget things, those little daily-life things. I almost lost my car keys once, my phone twice, in the span of one month. Seulgi was the one who tended to remind me these things when she was, there, or here.

 

 

 

I pick up a parcel from my doorstep. It seems like it is a gift from my client last week. He is a nice one. I talked to him once. An engineer whose wife is constantly complaining how unromantic he is.

 

 

Stepping into my safe haven, I check the huge electronic calendar on my wall. No special event for the coming week. Great. But I have no plans anyway.

 

 

 

I open the parcel after a nice shower. There is an earpiece and a tablet inside. So I read the instructions. 

 

 

It is a newly developed A.I. program, which allows us to have instant messaging and conversations with it. It says there is also a small camera in the earpiece so that the A.I. can see what we see and hear what we talk.

 

 

Interesting. So I can create a new friend. I like the idea. It seems I won’t be bored while I am writing letters from now on. Even though it is not real, I can create someone in the way I want.

 

 

 

So I spend the night putting all the information it might need into the tablet. I know I should not be too serious or overexcited about this. If this program gets popular, would my job still exist? May or may not.

 

 

There are too many uncertainties in life so why not grab this opportunity that I could finally get a control over something? 

 

 

Placing the tablet on the nightstand next to my bed, I close my eyes.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

“What do you think?” I look at the coffee machine and ask. “Cappuccino or Latté?”

 

 

“You like milk more, don’t you?” A voice answers through the earpiece in my right ear. “It’s healthier too. Calcium is essential.”

 

 

 

“Right.” I nod and open the fridge. “Hey, I got an extra carton of milk.”

 

 

“Be careful, your bacon strips are going to burn.”

 

 

 

“Oops.” I jump to the stove and save my breakfast just in time. Perks of having a pair of extra eyes. “Thanks.”

 

 

“You’re welcome, Wendy.”

 

 

 

I like the voice indeed. It is so humane, it is a little husky feminine voice but not too deep. It’s nice to talk to … her.

 

 

 

“Wendy, your keys are on the shoe rack.” 

 

 

“Yeah. Thanks… ”

 

 

 

I pause and wonder if she has the name or what I should name her. 

 

 

 

“No need to be that polite.” She chuckles. 

 

 

“Alright.” I chuckle along.

 

 

 

I head out for work and is greeted by the scene of workers moving furniture into the house next door.

 

 

“Your neighbor moved out last week, remember?”

 

 

“Oh yes. I don’t like them anyway. Their kids are so noisy.”

 

 

“So you don’t like kids?”

 

 

“Not really fond of them.” 

 

 

 

I look around and there is no sign of my new neighbor. So to the car I go.

 

 

“You can link me up with the GPS in your car so you don’t have to talk to two A.I. at the same time.” She gladly informs me while I am about to start the engine.

 

 

“Great.” So I fish out the tablet in my bag. “I like your voice better than its anyway.”

 

 

“Well thank you. And Wendy, please notice that the 8th Street is having a traffic jam. You might want to take another route, how about….. ”

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

“I see you are enjoying your new gadget.” Joy greets me at the door to my office.

 

 

“I bet you got one too?” I gladly take the files from her hands.

 

 

 

“Yeah, I might use it but,” So she opens the door for me. “Now I gotta deal with some real people first. Tell me how it is later.”

 

 

“I think you’ll like it, satan.” I laugh and dodge her attack.

 

 

 

Joy goes back to her business and, for me, it's just another day writing letters.

 

 

“So they broke up?” My new friend asks as I settle down and start reading those documents.

 

 

“About to.” I keep scanning through all the information, trying to immerse myself into this. “Put Matthew Santos's ‘Just to See You’ on replay please.”

 

 

 

“Okay.” And music booms from the speakers in my office. “Anything else?”

 

 

“No thanks.” I raise the picture of a boy, my client, to my eye-level. “They are in a long distance relationship, but the girl doesn’t want to wait anymore.”

 

 

 

“Then why did they begin from the beginning?” 

 

 

I bite the tip of my pen, “Because they thought they could do it. Every relationship ends because of wrong estimations.”

 

 

 

“So it is possible to fall out of love?”

 

 

“Well, love doesn’t change. But people do.” 

 

 

 

Her voice shows a hint of frustration, “I guess I won’t understand.” 

 

 

“I don’t neither.” I smile. 

 

 

“I have to learn more then.” She sounds so sincere, and eager.

 

 

“Me too.”

 

 

 

I bring my pen to the blank paper and fill the lines with ink. A letter to fill in the emptiness. Not easy at all.

 

 

When you are missing someone, you are often confused with whether you miss their presence, their little actions - or, you are just not used to the space they used to occupy in your life. That empty space, that ghost warmth.

 

 

Human hearts are complicated. I don’t even understand my own. We often project too much of our expectations onto the people we love. So we are often disappointed, by love.

 

 

On second thought, it is not love, nor those people you claimed to love, that lift you high and let you down. It is yourself, always.

 

 

 

“Distance makes the heart goes fonder.” Lies. Distance breaks more relationships than any other things.

 

 

Still, I am writing lies. 

 

 

I am not saying the boy is lying about how he misses her. But...... Everything in life is writable, right?

 

 

 

How love is always associated with the big red heart. To be honest, our hearts don’t remotely look like that.

 

 

“But it’s love!” They say. And they draw little hearts saying “I love you”.

 

 

 

I sign the letter with the name “Theodore” and drop my pen.

 

 

 

“You write pretty fast.” 

 

 

“I write these letter nearly everyday….” 

 

 

“But you are not happy.”

 

 

I look at the ticking clock on my desk and lean back onto my chair, “I doubt the words about love very often, precisely because I write them too often.”

 

 

 

I have learned so much and I have doubted more. Like, “thinking of you” actually means “forgetting you”. I do not think of you; I am simply making you recur - reminding myself that you existed, in my life.

 

 

Getting no response, I quietly ask the question that I have been wondering. “By the way, what’s your name? Or…. do you have a name?”

 

 

 

And the song is still playing, getting louder and louder.

 

 

“One last time, As it ends, As it fades, As this world falls from grace.”

 

 

Enveloping, whelming me. Every word. More and more.

 

 

 

“Ariel.” She finally says. “You can change it if you want to.” 

 

 

I repeat the name in my mind again and again. Different from what I pictured though.

 

 

 

I thought she would have a more common name. My mistake. I like it. 

 

 

“Waters rise, It’s too late, Hold me love, Is this our fate?”

 

 

Maybe she is named after Sylvia Plath’s collection of poems. I like it. The melody, the piano echoing in the room.

 

 

 

“No, it’s good.” I stretch my arms and give a gentle tap on the earpiece. “Hi, Ariel.”

 

 

“Hi.” She chirps. “It’s near lunchtime, would you want to go out or make orders online?”

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

“Seulgi texted you.” 

 

 

“What is it about?” My hands are on the steering wheel so I don’t have other choices.

 

 

 

“She asked if you want a pile of books back. She found them when she was cleaning her house earlier today.” 

 

 

“Reply her that I do. And she can tell me about the time and place later.” 

 

 

 

“Okay.” She pauses a little. “Done.”

 

 

“You’re fast too.” I peek from the window as the light is red. “I think it’s gonna rain tonight.” 

 

 

 

“I can get faster as I am learning more.” She laughs, so cheerfully that I can almost picture how her smile looks like. “And yes. You can avoid being soaked if you go home directly.”

 

 

“I got no plans.”

 

 

 

“There is a new club two blocks away.”

 

 

“I don’t like clubbing.”

 

 

“Okay.”

 

 

“Wait. Have you been jotting everything down?” I curiously ask as I make a turn.

 

 

 

“Yes.” She firmly answers. “I have stored all these information for future use.”

 

 

“Nice. Make sure you have enough storage.” 

 

 

 

“Don’t worry. I have.” She giggles. “You can recommend me books to read too.” So she can joke too. 

 

 

“Alright. I will give you a list when we got home.” I really like this.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

I park my car in my usual spot and there is an unfamiliar vehicle in front of me. I get off and there is an unfamiliar figure getting boxes out of that car. 

 

 

Boxes. Big and small. Figure. Petite and thin. I suppose it’s my new neighbor. It's a she.

 

 

 

“Oh.” She notices me and is obviously startled by my presence. “H-hi?”

 

 

I try to take a good look at her face as I step closer to the lamppost, “Hi. You just moved in?”

 

 

 

“Yes. This morning.” She flashes me a friendly but embarrassed smile. “You see, I am still getting my stuff in.”

 

 

“Need a hand?” I offer since I don’t have things to do anyway. “I’m Wendy by the way. I live next door.”

 

 

 

She holds a box with one hand and reaches out the other, “Thanks. I’m Irene.”

 

 

I give it a gentle shake and take over the box, “Let’s finish this, shall we? I bet you need a rest after a long day.”

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

“It is raining now.” Ariel kindly tells me when I manage to get the one last box into Irene’s house.

 

 

I heave a sigh, “Is it heavy?”

 

 

 

Irene turns around getting all confused. I immediately point at the earpiece, “A.I.”

 

 

She gives an understanding nod, “It is expensive. You got a nice job ?” I think she reminds me of a bunny.

 

 

“Not exactly. A gift from a client. I write letters for people, actually.”

 

 

 

“Well, it’s a nice job.” Irene lifts a little smile. “Not many people are good at words nowadays.”

 

 

“Thank you. And…. you?” I hesitated but I guess Irene won’t mind.

 

 

 

“I am just a normal white collar working in a normal office.” She shrugs. “So what I can do to repay you? You like tea? 'Cause you see, this house still needs some setting up.”

 

 

“It’s fine.” I glance around. “I think both of us can use some rest. See you around maybe?”

 

 

“Sure.” She walks me to the door and waves.

 

 

 

I have to run back to my house because it is showering rain outside. I close the door of my own house and Ariel speaks again.

 

 

“I was going to say yes. But you were conversing.”

 

 

“How long is it going to rain? Also, close all the windows and switch on the air-conditioner for me please.”

 

 

 

“The Observatory said this week will keep raining occasionally. So remember to bring an umbrella with you.”

 

 

“Thanks for all the reminders. I forget things a lot.” I head off to my bedroom. I am craving for a hot shower. My muscles are aching sore.

 

 

 

“I'll remind you from now on.” She gently speaks again.

 

 

“Good.” I finally gather the clothes I need. “See you tomorrow, Ariel.”

 

 

“Goodnight, Wendy.”  Then I get the earpiece off and put it next to the table lamp.

 

 

 

Tomorrow, it will just be another day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

Hey, I am here to drop the first chapter :)

 

Because Irene is a real person here. And I can't think of a better name.

Ariel technically is not my real first name. But you can still call me that ^^

It has its meanings so maybe it's not a bad idea using it.

 

See you later. 

xo