When rain fell from the sky like numb spider silk, she gently opened the mailbox, but there was no reply in it. She was not disappointed, lifted up her skirt again, and left. The puddles on the ground were sticky and wet, and her white canvas shoes were speckled with mud. Wait until the weather clears and send another one, she thought.
She remembered the letter she wrote yesterday, her mood, how she started writing, and her shy expression when she wrote the emotional part. She remembered, she would always remember, because it was a letter written to that girl, and she had to write it with a sincere heart.
Even though the girl never wrote back to her.
She is still writing to her, thousands of times, every day, never stopping writing
Intention: Only love is the most sincere