Later in the evening, Jennifer's mother remembered to give her a letter that had come for her in the mail. It was from Doug, a childhood friend that had moved across the country, and with whom she had maintained a good friendship.
Dear Jennifer,
How are you doing? Good I hope. Me? Well I'm doing okay.
How is your dad? I hope he's feeling better. My uncle had a minor stroke too, last year, and he's recovered completely, so I do think you should worry.
Do you have a boyfriend yet? I'm still going out with Clara. I'm sure you'd like her if you met her. Of course she's your complete opposite. You have dark hair, she has blonde hair. You're shy, she's full of energy. You're tall, she's short.
Have you thought about my offer? It would really mean a lot to me. It's been so long since we've seen each other. We have so much catching up to do. Letters are never as good as a real conversation.
Anyway I better go. I'm in my math class, and Mister Bloated (Bolton) would be really mad if he caught me writing a letter.
Write soon, you hear? Last time I had to wait two months for an answer!!!
Have a ball, it's an order!
Your friend,
Doug
It left her less than happy.
I'm always glad to get a letter from him, yet afterwards I'm always sad. Why is it that letters are always so insignificant? Maybe because we're starting from scratch each time we write one. But for once, I would like the contents to be important. Not a damn telegram, but a real LETTER. Something that you can read many times, and try to understand for hours. But Doug's not to blame… I'm sure my letters feel the same to him. Because neither of us has the guts to really pour our hearts out.
Still, it was good to hear from him.
As she was pondering on what to write to him in her reply, she heard the front door open and close downstairs. Probably Julie, Karen's friend. Suddenly, Jennifer was itching to go downstairs to see what was up.
She left her room, and came face to face with them in the stairs.
_____________________________
Dear Jennifer,
How are you doing? Good I hope. Me? Well I'm doing okay.
How is your dad? I hope he's feeling better. My uncle had a minor stroke too, last year, and he's recovered completely, so I do think you should worry.
Do you have a boyfriend yet? I'm still going out with Clara. I'm sure you'd like her if you met her. Of course she's your complete opposite. You have dark hair, she has blonde hair. You're shy, she's full of energy. You're tall, she's short.
Have you thought about my offer? It would really mean a lot to me. It's been so long since we've seen each other. We have so much catching up to do. Letters are never as good as a real conversation.
Anyway I better go. I'm in my math class, and Mister Bloated (Bolton) would be really mad if he caught me writing a letter.
Write soon, you hear? Last time I had to wait two months for an answer!!!
Have a ball, it's an order!
Your friend,
Doug
_____________________________
It left her less than happy.
I'm always glad to get a letter from him, yet afterwards I'm always sad. Why is it that letters are always so insignificant? Maybe because we're starting from scratch each time we write one. But for once, I would like the contents to be important. Not a damn telegram, but a real LETTER. Something that you can read many times, and try to understand for hours. But Doug's not to blame… I'm sure my letters feel the same to him. Because neither of us has the guts to really pour our hearts out.
Still, it was good to hear from him.
As she was pondering on what to write to him in her reply, she heard the front door open and close downstairs. Probably Julie, Karen's friend. Suddenly, Jennifer was itching to go downstairs to see what was up.
She left her room, and came face to face with them in the stairs.
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