1.221

You smell the letter before you spot it. Dabbed with a fair amount perfume, its scent reminds you of cherrymoss blossoms and cinnamon stirred with honey. Inside is a love poem to the artist, Sil Belai, complete with a torrent of similes and overwrought adjectives. Perhaps it's a good thing this never reached her. Then again, maybe it's just the kind of thing she'd have appreciated.