They still don’t know who left it. But someone did.
It was early barely light out. The air still held that just-woken stillness, the kind where the world hasn't quite decided if it's morning yet.
Minato was the first one up.
He always is.
He shuffled into the kitchen, half-asleep, and stepped over something at the front door. He didn’t think much of it probably a grocery flyer or a delivery notice. But when he bent down, he realized it was just a folded piece of paper.
No envelope. No name.
Just a note, creased in half.
The words written in slightly crooked handwriting:
“To those who think they are forgotten
You’re not.
Someone still remembers you.
Someone still sees you.”
That was all.
He read it three times before calling the others over.
Rika blinked at it like it might vanish. Fumiko kept asking if this was one of Noriko’s weird jokes.
Noriko just stood there, arms crossed, staring at the gap under the door like he could rewind time if he focused hard enough.
No one had heard footsteps.
The door was locked from the inside.
And there were no tracks outside not in the dew on the grass, not on the welcome mat.
Just the letter.
Warm. Like it had only just been written.
“It’s fake,” Rika said, even as she folded the paper carefully. “Probably a prank.”
But she didn’t throw it away.
None of them did.
They left it on the kitchen table.
Just in case someone came back for it.
Just in case someone was still out there.
It wasn’t signed.
But somehow…
It didn’t feel like a stranger.
✍️ Journaling Prompt:
Have you ever received a message expected or not that felt like it was meant just for you?
📬 Sometimes, letters arrive before you’re ready for them.
This month’s story begins with a door, a garden, and a message no one remembers writing.
Step into the mystery »
0 comments