He adjusted his tie and practiced his line again.
“Hi!” he began cheerily, “I’m here about the letter…”
No, this wasn’t working. “Hi!” he tried once more, “About that letter you wrote me…I’d like to express my availability…”
Damn! This sounded cheesy as hell. Should he extend his hand? Say that he was available for a date tonight and how about her? How does anyone do these things anyway?
But no more practicing in front of the mirror. He’d just have to land up at her door and play it by ear.
Down under her building, he gently unfolded her letter again. He found that her words gave him courage.
How beautifully she wrote, so simple, direct and elegant:
“…so this is just to say that I love you,” he read, “and I am willing to wait for you. However long it takes.
He restored the yellowed scrap of paper to his pocket and glanced at the date on his watch. 14th February, 2011. Valentine’s Day. It was time.
It had taken 22 years but he had a business now, and a house. A life he wouldn’t be ashamed to offer her.
He took a final, deep breath. And slicking back his silver hair, he rang the doorbell.