Dreaming of His Pen Pal's Kiss - Jessie Gussman Page 0,6

right now.

Unfortunately, I’m in the hospital because I choose to be, while I understand you don’t have a choice.

Regardless, you are the fifth person that I am attempting to become pen pals with.

All four of my other pen pals puttered out to the point where I don’t think they’re writing me anymore.

I think it might have something to do with me being overwhelming and those myriads of notebooks that I could fill up just chatting about nothing and being completely entertained.

I’m starting to realize, though, it doesn’t entertain anyone else.

The one other thing that I can tell you is that I live in Arkansas. I can’t give you my town, and the address you write back to is a PO box in a different town. That mail is forwarded to me.

I know it’s almost Valentine’s Day, but I love Christmas, and the town I live in is a great place to live if you love Christmas.

What do you love?

Sincerely,

The Healing Pen

Chapter 3

Hey, Healing Pen,

Thank you for not writing a notebook full of random stuff. You’re right. I wouldn’t have read it.

You’re also right about nurses. I guess I belong in the second category, which was bad experiences.

Not that any of my nurses are not kind, they just...aren’t always professional, if you know what I mean.

I’ll admit right up front that I’m only writing because someone I trust signed me up, and I feel like I have to.

I have two loves. The one I’m not gonna talk about. The other is computers.

Best regards,

Computer Nerd

JOURNEE HELD THE SLIP of paper in her hand. He hadn’t needed to waste a whole piece of paper on the few lines he’d written.

She felt like this was going to end up being a dead end. Obviously, the guy wasn’t the slightest bit interested in writing to her.

At least his handwriting was neat, each letter perfectly formed. Not the kind of handwriting she would have guessed for a man.

She looked around the quiet house that she shared with her parents and siblings, Shawn and Blakely. The two children, Darcy and Frank, that Penny and Race were currently fostering lived with them as well. However, there’d been a Valentine’s Day party at Mistletoe’s community center, and Penny and Race had taken Darcy and Frank there.

She supposed she never thought she’d make it to twenty-eight and be spending Valentine’s Day alone.

She also thought it was probably a girl thing. But of all the days of the year where she thought about what could have been, Valentine’s Day was the day.

Knowing if she didn’t distract herself she’d soon be depressed and looking for chocolate, she set the letter down and reached for her pen. Obviously, the man didn’t want to write to her but was being forced to. Still, she wasn’t going to let what he did dictate what she did.

If he wanted to answer her with one-word sentences, that was up to him. But as long as he wrote to her, she’d write back, and she’d do her best to be who she was. Because she never really saw any reason to be anything different.

Dear Computer Nerd,

I guess that I could go on a personal crusade to change your mind about nurses, but it sounds like maybe that’s what caused the problem to begin with. Or something like that.

I’m a little confused when you say you love computers. Is it that you love the way they look? Or you love to use computers? Or you love working on computers? That was really open for interpretation, and since it’s the one thing you told me, I’d really like to be clear about it. If it’s not too much trouble.

I actually don’t own a computer. I know that’s weird, because everybody has one, although I do have a smartphone. I don’t really like it, though.

I like doing what I’m doing right now, which is putting pen on paper, just saying what I think.

Next week is Valentine’s Day, and everyone around me says I’m a bit of a romantic. Actually, that’s not true.

Everyone around me says I am a terrible romantic, a hopeless romantic.

I suppose they’re right. It’s funny how people looking outside of us can sometimes see us better than we can see ourselves, but they can never know exactly what’s going on in our head. I think we think so much there’s just no way that we could even tell everyone all of our thoughts.

It’d be overwhelming, as you pointed out. No one would ever pay attention.

So, I’m assuming you