There is this old and battered letter, sitting in Your Inbox.

It's unread for now, but that will soon change. The letter knows this and has been waiting, patiently, for quite a while now. The letter is addressed to You, although it doesn't say that out loud. As for the sender - You knew him once, but have probably forgotten his existence; it was a long time ago, after all...

The letter is sad, there's no denying that, but there is also a brilliant, underlying hope, a chance that it reached it's destination - Your pale blue eyes. And now, as You fast approach it's inevitable end, the letter is content - it's purpose fulfilled, it's sender satisfied.

There was this old, worn out letter, sitting in Your Indbox, unread - waiting for the moment You'd open it so it could silently whisper it's secret: there is someone out there, caring for You.