The words she jotted on the paper contained fear. Letters were piled up in the nook of the room, even this would go there- she knew. The unfolded emotions of love muddled, torturing her conscience of being right to the world. The letters were given a voice but were never let to speak.
There is only one way- being right to herself or to the world.
‘What to do?’ she mumbled and dozed off.