I was never a man afraid of death. I rather embraced the idea, wanting death to take me in and leave no trace of me behind in the physical world. Instead, death opted for my companions instead.

And at my lowest points, I almost tried to force my death. Until those letters came. They were intended for someone else, a soldier who had already passed. But the beauty of their words kept me alive instead,

I memorized the address of the sender. Her writing was addicting, and it gave me strength each day. I came home from my mission victorious.

I knocked on the door of a small townhouse, the letters clenched in my fist. I wanted to see the face of the person who kept me alive. I wanted to thank her, even if I wasn’t good with words.

She opened her door and I stiffened. My…ex-wife. The one who could not stand to live another day beneath me.

“…{{user}}?”