letter_from_away bespeckled She scratches shapes into rough grains of paper, long slender fingers delicately lacing the surface with ink. She brushes hair away from her eyes, and stares softly down at the black formations before her. He smiles, pulling the words from the mailbox and reading them on the street corner. He walks into the deafening silence of his apartment, holding the envelope next to his shirt, the inky letters filling his ears with sweet melodies. 021125 what's it to you? who go blather from