Work Text:
She sees the advertisement on a Sunday in late April.
Young man seeks young lady. Tall, dark-haired, early 30s. Educated businessman. Lives in Budapest. Interests include music, literature, art, travel, theatre, and philosophy. Looking for someone with similar interests. Long letters encouraged.
She’s read the advertisements before, and while she’s never given them much consideration, something about this one makes her linger. Perhaps it’s the way the advertisement describes the writer’s interests rather than outlining a list of desired physical traits. Or maybe it’s the instant connection she feels, the way she sees so much of herself in the short paragraph.
Against her better judgement, Amalia cuts the advertisement from the paper and sets it aside. She comes back to it several times over the next week, the words calling out to her like a siren’s song. She rereads the advertisement and wonders who the letter writer is and what he looks like. Wonders what types of books and art he enjoys, what type of music he listens to, what type of letters he’d write.
Most of all, she wonders if she’ll even receive a response if she musters the courage to send a letter.
*
She takes out a new sheet of stationery a week later.
It takes three attempts for her to begin the letter. Dear Sir sounds too formal, Dear Stranger sounds impertinent and derisive, and Hello sounds too informal.
She settles on Dear Friend.
From there, the words rush out of her with startling ease. Amalia intends on only writing one page, but one page soon turns to two, which turns to three. By the end, she has four pages, listing her favorite novels and plays, the museums she frequents, the art and music she favors, and her thoughts about each of them. She tells him about her life and her home, about her career and her hopes for the future. About her fear of writing such a letter to someone she’s never met.
She worries that it’s too revealing, too desperate, too much to send in a first letter. She’s never done something like this and she doesn’t know if there are rules to abide by. She so desperately wants to write more, but she ends the letter with a simple,
I’ve never written a letter quite like this one, but I hope you won’t mind receiving more. I’ve enjoyed writing this more than I could have imagined.
Sincerely,
Your Friend.
She hurries to the post office and mails the letter before she loses her nerve.
*
Amalia checks her post office box every day for almost two weeks.
On the ninth day, she finds a letter inside. She looks at the envelope, at the strong, slanted penmanship, at the way the blank ink stands so starkly against the crisp white of the envelope. The packet is thick, containing several pages. A good sign, she thinks.
She would prefer to wait until she gets home to open it, but she lasts all of two blocks before she opens the envelope and takes out the letter with trembling hands.
Dear Friend,
I was so delighted to receive your letter. I reread it several times before I was able to write a reply. I’m afraid I may have committed most of it to memory.
Amalia stops reading, gripping the paper with a fierceness borne of relief and excitement. He likes me, she thinks, ecstatic. Her letter didn’t scare him off, and from what she continues to read, he’s just as willing to tell her every detail about his life.
By the time she’s finished reading the letter, she’s convinced she’s already half in love with her new dear friend.