It was just after Christmas when she found the thing in her mail box.
At first she thought it was a late card. It wasn’t. She took it in and sat staring at it. The envelope had no address or stamp. It only had the house number written on it. Inside she found a plain white piece of card with just a few words written in ballpoint. Although it was a bold hand, it had obviously been written with a great deal of care. It read, ‘I wish you a very happy birthday. I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I miss you so much.’
She sat for a long time thinking about the sender. She was touched. A tear was dabbed with a tissue. She couldn’t help feeling the anguish that radiated from the card.
Then, she chided herself for being silly.
Her birthday wasn’t until November, and she’d only just moved in.