just writing...might edit later

As I sit back in my chair and throw my feet up on the stool, I notice a letter my father wrote me a few years back. I don't remember placing it there, but that doesn't seem to matter in my state of mind. It's bright in the room I'm in, but it has a very lonely feel to it. You can hear the heater running and the sound of my breathing...in...and out...keep breathing and traces of my perfume can be smelled. What a lovely smell, I think, as it has always been my favorite. vanilla. I reach slowly for the letter from my father and open it without a second thought. Ten pages...this man had a lot of time on his hands. All of his letters' began with " I hope this letter finds you well and in good spirits with our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ!" Faith is one thing that he found late in life. Better late than never, I suppose.
I've read this letter many times before, I remembered. His analysis on one of my nightmares took up four of the ten pages and I once again relived it as I read on. I then threw down the papers and hung my head. It was not a memory I wanted to think about. I looked at the clock to find the time. 2:30 p.m. Time to go to work........................



(i'm still learning how to write a story, so i set up a senerio where i would describe several different details of what was going on)