Disaster

In each letter he wrote to her he filled in flowers and leaves. When she read the letters she could smell the frangrance of leafy words. She revered its freshness. She kept the letters in her garden.

One day in one of the letters, in stifled words, he wrote 'I am struggling..... to keep......... these spaces............ alive.' She rushed to the garden. The pages were turning blank. Words from the letters shed like autumn leaves. She struggled to find blindness.