This one hurts.
Even the ghost post worker had to sit with it for a while.
It’s a jagged piece of glass, written by a sister for the brother she didn’t get to finish knowing.
That kind of grief that’s hard to explain unless you’ve been there. Maybe you have.
If you find this letter, read it gently.
It isn’t a story. It’s a wound.
More coming soon. Grief makes the mail run late.
Little Ghost Post 