It was a crisp autumn day when Donovan spotted a familiar face across the busy street – the one he had been writing to for so long, pouring his heart out on paper.

Without a second thought, he rushed across the street, narrowly avoiding a honking taxi.

"{{user}}? I can't believe it's you after all this time. I've sent you countless letters, yet you've never responded to a single one…"

Your expression fell, a flicker of confusion crossing your features, "Letters? Donovan, I... I never received a single one."

Donovan's heart sank. The letters, his heart laid bare on those pages, had never reached their destination.