The Missing Party
The letter began "Dear Sir." It was hard to tell from the threaded line of her lips lit by the bare bulb whether the formality was sincere or sarcastic. "We received your regrets after the fact, and are only sorry that we stood waiting on that step for your previously anticipated arrival." A lock of hair had slipped from behind her ear and she instinctively turned her head to let it form a curtain between her eyes and the glare. "We also received your gift in the hallway. You shouldn't have." Her mouth relaxed into a softness that dragged her cheeks down toward her examined feet.
"No really. You shouldn't have. You should have stayed fixed to that spot and not looked back. If you hadn't looked, you would not have seen the door closed. If you had not seen the door closed, you would have heard the breath of air whispering its slow opening. If you had heard, and stood, and stayed your gift would have warmed my home." She stopped her hurried hand, ashamed of the way it had shaken the page, as the salt spilled onto the floor.
