A part of me will always wonder why : Forgotten love
A part of me will always wonder why I chose to open that old, creaky attic door. It was a hot July afternoon, and the house was quiet because my family was away on vacation. I needed a distraction after being left alone with my thoughts and the oppressive heat. The attic, with its dusty secrets and forgotten memories, appeared to beckon me.
Climbing the narrow stairs, I felt a rush of excitement. The attic was a relic of the past, filled with boxes and trunks that had not been opened in decades. As I pushed open the door, I was greeted by a gust of stale air, carrying the scent of old paper and forgotten dreams.
My gaze scanned the room before landing on a large, ornate chest in the corner. It was unlike anything I had ever seen, with intricate carvings that alluded to long-forgotten stories. With trembling hands, I opened the chest to find a collection of letters tied with a faded ribbon.
My heart raced as I read the first letter. It was written by my great-grandmother during World War II to a lover whom no one in my family had ever mentioned. The letters told a story of forbidden love, heartbreak, and resilience, painting a picture of…
