A Letter

He looked at it and mumbled something in Korean. He scratched his head and got up and looked out the window at the bare trees, seemingly lifeless. The branches were swaying in rhythm with the gusts of wind.

He picked it up and then let it settle back down and ran his finger lengthwise down the letter and stopped just short of the bottom and tapped his finger a couple of times and sighed and walked toward the fireplace. His head tilted slightly to the side. The wood crackled and the smell of smoke lingered in the room.

—Let’s see what your mother is up to.

I nodded and we left the room.



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