He threw the knife at the target, his hands steady. It whistled past his ear to the centre. He hadn't trained in a while, and he didn't really know what to do. He didn't really feel up to inventing for once, and Charlotte was working intently on paperwork, so he figured he may as well test how bad he was from the gap in which he had fought last. He wasn't too bad though, he still done everything as he did the last time he was in battle with demons. Why, he couldn't even remember. He took the knife, and hurled it again at the centre, striking itself into the target, where it buried itself deep to the hilt.
'Henry,' she said, walking towards him. He turned, and saw Charlotte. It was weird how he was always startled by her presence, like she didn't live in the same building.
He registered a look of shock on her face, and hoped that he hadn't done anything to upset her.
'What's the matter?' He whispered.
'I found this. Behind the crypt dustbin.' She had in her hands a folded piece of paper, quite old, and she handed it to him, her eyes blurry.
He recognised it instantly. He looked at the piece of paper.
He had written a letter, a year back, to Lottie, when he still thought she didn't love him. He threw it away after he wrote it, but it must have fallen, for it had rested there for a year, behind the bin.
He unfolded it, looking at his handwriting, reminiscing the time he wrote it. He saw a tear stain on the upper right corner, and traced it with his fingers. He looked at the first words, and started to read it.
'My dearest Lottie,
Words cannot describe how much I am feeling mixed emotions right now. I am confused by actions, mislead by my inventions, betrayed by my love. I know you do not feel as I feel, and I am sorry for you to have me in the place of a man who could truly make you happy. You deserve all the best things in life: love, loyalty, trust, kindness, honesty. I wish I could give them to you. I can't bear the thought of entrapping you with my misery, my sorrow, my avoidance, but you must know that my feelings for you have caused this.
Only in dreams do I see you fully; only in dreams I am the man you fall in love with; only in dreams you deserve me and I deserve you.
But dream Henry is not real. Oh dearest Lottie how I wish he was. I am so sorry for not being the man you deserve. I am sorry I am real Henry. I would give anything to be the dream of myself. And now I will throw this away and return to my inventions, because of course, not even this letter is worthy of you. I will see you in my dreams dear Charlotte.
Love,
Henry.
He looked up at Charlotte, her lip trembling. He embraced her, holding her tight, the letter clasped in his hands. He looked to the wooden ceiling, to the beams that stretched across the room while stroking her hair tenderly. He was so glad everything had been resolved. So glad.