From a story by me in Glimmer Train, called "The Mailman"
I love you.
It was nice to read that, nice to have it in black and white on a piece of paper she could look at again and again. It was only later, after a couple of weeks, she noticed the words written there growing fainter and fainter, and finally disappearing, as though they had been written with smoke.
I love you.
I o e yo
o o
o
Then the paper itself would crumble – ashes.
Nothing lasts.
