It’s Miss Mina’s birthday and I can’t be there for the celebration.
She will be annoyed, I know. And she will think me a coward for bowing out by writing her this postcard.
But it is a pretty postcard and perhaps she will understand its true meaning. Two hands about to embrace. Bluebirds of happiness. And of course, the lily-of-the-valley, speaking of the return to happiness.
But then again, it is possible she will see nothing at all. Nothing but my lame and forlorn words, penned in haste, unable to be erased.
I have not the nerve to even sign my name. So I shall simply be…F.N.
