To Asa’s surprise, the days passed quickly...and even though each day seemed to blend into all the rest, there was one daily occurrence that gave him something to look forward to: the delivery of mail. Taking two granite steps at a time into the school post office, Asa would quickly scan the rows of mail slots with small combination locks on their doors. With a tightening in his chest, he would peer through the tiny glass window to see if there were any envelopes leaning up against the inside wall. Noelle had proven true to her word and, after her first letter, Asa had forgiven her for not meeting him that last night. She wrote often...two or three times a week. Asa would slip her envelope into a book and find a seat on the grass under the reaching boughs of an old oak tree or at a worn secluded table by the window in the library. There, with the sun casting light across the pages, he would slowly read...running his fingers over the pale stationary and thinking of the slender hands that had touched it last...the hands that had touched him...and given him such pleasure.

Noelle’s letters were warm and funny and spoke of life at home and at work. She wrote about the changing weather and the ocean and the stars. She wrote about Nate finding a bottle of champagne by the pool... where in the world had that come from??? And she always closed with thoughts of him...she missed him...every part of him...her thoughts stirred his fire and kept the embers burning. Asa clung to her words and they sustained him...more than food or drink or air...he lived for these...elegant lines linked together to give him hope...