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Ob’im (2)
… I’m writing to you again
Obi’m, writing to you again still feels surreal, I should rather be looking into your eyes or whispering sweet nothings into your ears, telling you all of my dry jokes as you’d always call them. Did you read the last story I wrote of you about your new girl and of me missing you ?
Obi’m, today feels different. It smells different. Today, the clouds are dense and puffy, but the temperature is sizzling hot. It reminded me of one of your many jokes. This one, especially whenever the weather is this hot — You’d say the last person to descend into the depth of hell was such in a hurry that he forgot to shut the door behind him. Now, the whole place is sweltering. Of course, this wasn’t your original joke, this joke has been told in ages past, but it wasn’t just about the joke, but how you said it, how you used your high pitch tone or how you gesticulated with your hands that always got my ribs cracking from laughter.
Obi’m, it unlike me, my palms should be sweaty, my heart should be racing but here I am sitting quietly on this old plastic chair, staring at the screen of my laptop, my fingers hitting the different keys on the keyboard, my hands are surprisingly cold. Today, a sense of stillness and quiet contemplation brings solace to my heart and clarity to my thoughts. Obi’m you won’t believe it, I just found someone new!
