Seven hundred forty-three miles. Two hours behind.
Her morning starts at my eleven. I take lunch at her coffee.
- - -
She mailed a scarf. It smells like her building's hallway.
It is not cold here. I wear it anyway.
How to Write a Long-Distance Love Letter
Long-distance letters drown in "I miss you so much." Missing is not an argument; it needs units. Measure the distance — miles, time zones, the price of the call — and never once say the word "miss."
How to write it: three rules of restrained prose
- Convert the distance into daily units: miles, hours of time difference, minutes your morning overlaps with her night.
- Pick the object that travels: a jacket, a key, a playlist. It goes where you cannot.
- End with logistics, not longing. "The mail leaves at six" hurts more than "I count the days."
Pick the "love letter" mode, put "someone seven hundred miles away" in the first field, and let the restraint do the rest.