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It is raining water balloons, I told him.

He stared blankly at me. I had just stated the obvious and he hated that. Talk to me, Angie. Don’t avoid it.

Yet, I couldn’t. We spoke about the problems that plagued the world, the messed up environment, the oceans of dreams in his heart, the stupid game on the television. But I never once to his face voiced the numerous thoughts running through my head and aching my heart. It frustrated him. He was on his last nerve, I could sense. He held on but probably with the hope that someday I would change.

I shook my head as a response to his statement. He turned back to his annoying game. He threw water balloons at the wall. He was distracting himself from my incompetence of stringing two lines together. I slipped out of the room as he continued till his water balloon bucket was empty.

He knew I had left the room. He knew words didn’t come easy to me. Not when I spoke them anyway. I had a huge lump in my throat. As our routine, the next morning he found a fat letter on his nightstand. It had everything I wanted to say to him. It was hard to say what I really felt out loud. Writing came easier to me. I am afraid that the letters are not enough anymore. I need to find a way to get past this weakness. Soon, the letters will not be enough. He would want to hear me say it. He already yearns for more. I can see it in his eyes.