Kona Coffee

A generation later, it's over in a few seconds. Close a window. Click on the X. Hit the delete button. No traces remain. So different from the gut wrenching handling of the letters, stubborn fingers insisting on reading them one last time, tracing the folds, the words blurring. Unable to destroy them, but impossible to keep. Wrapping them up. Finding an envelope large enough. An address inked for the last time. So different, yet achingly the same. Still no one to share it with.

A poignant reminder for the Kona Coffee list. Don't ever order it again.