IN THE beginning I didn’t wish to take the letter from my father but he said I need it; that I need to know something and all of that something is inside.
She didn’t expect to see her father. She didn’t know him personally but she recognized him. She kept a picture of him, a picture given by her mother, one and only picture of him. She had lived the fifteen years of her life without him. For fifteen years she didn’t hear a thing about the father she never had. And now he had the guts to appear in front of her. And now he had the guts to talk to her as if he had known her all her life. And now he had the guts to tell her she needs to know something. And now he had the guts to tell her what to do.
When she got home, she just run upstairs avoiding her mother’s greetings. She didn’t dare to mention to anyone about the sudden meeting and the mysterious letter.
Staring at the letter, she didn’t have the slightest idea what was written there. Wasn’t it interesting? What does she needs to know? Is it about her? About her mother? About her father she never had? Will it change her? Will she believe, in the first place, what was written there?