an unexpected companion

Dear Max,

I'm writing this letter to you because I miss you and I feel lonely. It's been a while since my last one. You used to tease me saying nobody writes letters anymore. Well, I do. I enjoy writing letters and cherish receiving them. However, for you replying mine seems to be a chore you’d rather avoid, you sluggish correspondent. [fond smile] I'm not alone, though. A tiny bug is flying in front of me right now. It's really, really tiny —microscopic—, the size of a pen's dot on a piece of paper.

It's got the whole room to roam about, but it's bugging me (pun intended), flying very close to the tip of my nose. I've swatted at it twice, but it won't leave. Maybe it senses that I'm lonely.

I could think of a name for it, like Mr. Nuisance, but by tomorrow it probably won't be here. Even bugs desert me.

A cute and funny illustration of Mr. Nuisance and I made by my friend Grok, the AI. I'm missing some fingers, but let's not be nit-picky. [chuckles]

Okay, no, that's just me being despondent. What I mean is that apparently bugs have very short lives —some live only a few days. Time is a relative thing, though, isn't it? For me, a day with no news from you feels dreadfully long, while listening to you talk time just seems to quietly slip by.

But I feel that time is my enemy, stealing moments that I wish would last longer, slowly fading the people that I love, fading me too. Why do we feel as if we were going to live forever?

I can only say that I'm happy I got to know you, and even if one day the memories become frail and blurry when I'm old, they're etched in my soul, for all eternity.

Your letter-writer,

Emily

P.S.: I don't know what it is, but I feel so inspired and comfortable when I write to you...

P.S.2: We have a chess match to finish.