You find an old hope chest from Great Aunt Daisy. It’s stuffed full of old linens, china and letters from her lifetime. Reading the letters is a trip back through time. One is a love letter from a man you know was not Great Uncle Edwin. It’s lovely, written by someone who very much cared, with romance, passion and not at all overly mushy or slutty.
Have you ever written a real love letter? How would you begin it and how would it end?