Letters We Did Not Send

The attic smelled of cedar and old rain. Margaret found the shoebox first, tucked behind a set of Christmas plates nobody had used since 1994.

There were thirty-one letters inside. All addressed. None stamped. All in their mother's careful, sloping hand.

'We shouldn't,' said Anne, from the doorway.

'We should,' said Margaret. And she sat down on the floorboards, and she began.