A/N- Alright. Since I liked writing my two angst stories the best, I thought that I�d try another one, with a touch of romance on the side. I hope you all like this.
Aimee- Well, you know how much I appreciate all your help. :)
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Letters. Letters that form into words, that create notes, poems, letters, stories. That�s the only thing I get from Logan anymore. I can never hear his voice, or see his face, or feel his touch. All I have is the words that he sends me.
I stand here, day after day, looking out over the ocean, because this is the closet that I can feel to Seattle. Looking forward, I can�t see what�s behind me. I can�t see the endless fields, and cliffs. I can only see the ocean. I can only see what I want to see.
I always come to this cliff to overlook the world. No one else will climb this high, and it almost feels like I�m back on the Space Needle, overlooking my broken city. My city. The one that hold the people I care about. The one I miss, every moment of every day.
As the wind whips through my hair, and tosses it to the side, I stare out into the ever lasting blue. The wind is cold on my face as it dries my tears. Some of the water on my face is from the sea, but the majority, is of my own salty creation.
I clutch in my hand my latest letter from Logan. I have read it so many times already that the paper is worn, but I will continue to read it until I get another one. Another series of words that tells me what I�m missing, and who is missing me.
My love,
I miss you more than words can say, but since words are the only thing I have to speak to you with, I will say it until the day I die. I miss you. I miss your ever present sarcastic tone. I miss your witty comebacks. I miss your stomach always doing the thinking for you. I miss your smell. I miss the feeling of you in my arms. I miss the way you used to whisper in my ear as I slept. But most of all, I miss you. I know that we can�t be together for awhile, but always know, that I am here waiting for you, and that I am thinking of you, every moment of everyday.
Until tomorrow my love,
Logan.
Everyday I run to the little post office in the town that I am staying in. Everyday I ask the graying man there if I had a letter waiting for me. Everyday gives me a small envelope. Everyday I run to my favorite cliff, and read what my letter has to say. And everyday, I cry until there are no more tears left for my body to shed. Everyday, I wish I was back in Seattle.
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