The letter failed to tell who it was from and to whom it was addressed to. But the words were unmistakeably between two people who were acquainted with one another. The tone pre-luded the words and the aroma from them filled the mind as it was being read and the lips on command began to move to give them the voice they called for. There was no date. Time didn't seem to change the significance of the message.

Folded back up it now lay in the bottom of the chest leaving it to the mind to conjure up a tale for the next verse and plots to fill in the time that has surely passed.

This like so many mysteries can leave a bitter taste behind when over and over again the images of the two remain just that images. As if they are expected to enter the room at the same time but at opposite ends to discover they have unknowlingly accepted an invitation to the same gala--only to leave still alone.