Dear Mrs Morris,
Yesterday I was clearing my drawers, throwing out some dusty memories from the past, when I came across your handwritten note. It contained your address, in neat red ink. You wrote that 18 years ago when I was a student librarian in PLMGSS. I was leaving the school and would miss the many times we spent in the library together.
You knew that I love Roald Dahl. Like a fellow playmate, you used to beckon to me excitedly from your counter when a new book came in. You would keep it for me; the date was the first stamped in the book. Back in those days, we used to paste borrowing slips in the books. You always ensured I pasted it neatly. I, in turn, made sure I stamped the date the right side up.
You must have heard my thoughts in Heaven. Today I was reading the papers as usual, and saw your picture in the obituary page, but I am too late, as always. You have been gone for one year already, and I didn't even know. I am sorry we didn't keep in touch all these years, but I hope you are in a better place now.
