The Letter


It was always you.


I read the words again. Tears swelled in my eyes, threatening to fall over. But I wiped them away quietly. I’d waited so long to hear “It was always you”. I’d loved Fred for three years. Three difficult years during which he hadn’t shown a hint of anything more than friendship. My roommate was the only one who knew, and the only one who helped me through it.

She was gone now though. She’d moved out only five days ago. Moved on to a new job and a new life. Unfortunately she’d left this behind, the letter Fred wrote her.

Written for the Writing 101 Day Five Prompt: You discover a letter on a path that affects you deeply. Today, write about this encounter. And your twist? Be as succinct as possible.


My Life’s Rhythm

Writing 101 Day Three Prompt: Write about the three most important songs in your life — what do they mean to you?

1. The Strokes – I’ll try anything once

There’s something about this song that makes everything about it feel right, which is strange considering I will definitely not try everything once.

2. Brian Adams – Everything I do

This one is just something that takes me back to my childhood.

3. Jamie Cullum – Just one of those things

This song reminds me of certain days in 2009 and 2010 that were simply some of the best days of my life. I feel the urge to put a “:)” here.

What are your top three songs? Tell me in the comments, maybe?

Petit Paradis Blanc

The cafe stood in an inner courtyard, surrounded by a scenic verandah on all four sides. Looking at the place from outside, you’d only see a somewhat weathered residential building, and walk past without a second glance. But if you knew you had to make your way down a little further, turn into the alley next door, and walk in the small black side door, you’d find yourself in a rather charming cafe. It was called “Petit Paradis Blanc” (Little White Heaven), and you’d understand why from the moment you stepped in. Everything was white and everything was heaven. The steady columns that held up the surrounding verandah, the wrought iron tables and chairs, the place settings, the server’s uniforms, and even the tiles were all in blanc. The 7-feet tall tree that stood in the middle of the courtyard was full of white leaves that managed to hide most of its dark bark. The people, however, stood out. Everyone wore pleasing blues and greens and pinks in pastels. It was the unofficial dress code here. I once asked Mrs Rosa why everything was white. She told me it was so that people could feel calm, and she could see them shine as they found their inner peace. It all seemed very much like something out of a novel, to be honest.

Written for the Writing 101 Day Two Prompt: A Room with a View.