I sat on the floor; the lights from the Christmas tree illuminated the tattered box in my hands.
Ribbon flowed seamlessly through my fingers, like a cool and winding mountain stream, as I untied the bow.
With trembling hands, I lifted the lid and gazed at the letter inside. Carefully, I unfolded the timeworn stationery, smoothing the sharp creases and read:
Another year has passed . . . Another Christmas. Our bodies separated, but not our hearts. Nothing can separate our hearts, for they beat as one.
Do you still think of me, my love? Does your heartbeat quicken when you open my letter? I wish I were there with you.
My wife, my soul-mate, oh, to be wrapped in your arms . . . Our bodies curved together, your lips on mine. When you close your eyes can you feel my breath on your neck, my touch?
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