Lost Love

Once, I found a piece of paper in a parking lot in the snow, bright white, fresh, as if just dropped there by accident. It was a note addressed, “My love,” and nothing more. Either it was the shortest love letter ever penned or the author could only transliterate what they felt. I understand that sometimes, love is not about words, but more about action, like impassioned eyes glancing across a room at the object of their affection or, a touch so tender that it electrifies all of your senses, becoming a part of you, melting into your soul. I only hoped that whoever wrote it would be able to experience what I knew to be- beyond words.