Seven Letters to a Stranger

Owen arrived earlier. Ada found him outside the hall inspecting a poster as though it contained difficult instructions. She recognized his careful handwriting on the note he held, not his face.

They laughed about their shared strategy and spent the interval discussing the wrong piece of music. Neither was disappointed.

Afterward, Ada asked if he wanted to see the table. "Not tonight," she added quickly. "When we know each other a little better."

He nodded. "I would like there to be a next time."

A month later, he came for dinner. The table was still small. It held two cups, an imperfect meal and the stack of letters that had helped them arrive. They did not need another version of themselves to sit there.