A few days later, Sara was sitting outside on the porch when the mailman came. As usual, she scurried to him before he had even gotten a chance to put the letters into the mailbox. He smiled and rolled his eyes as he handed her the letter. When she looked at the return address to see who it was from, her heart practically skipped a beat. Gil. She grinned and, thanking the mailman and taking the rest of the mail, walked back into the house. She left her father's mail on the counter and took his letter opener. She carefully cut open the envelope. She took the neatly folded paper out and opened it up. Some of the words were smudged by what she assumed to be rain.
Dear Sara,
I am on the bus as I write this and already I cannot keep my mind off of you. These next few years are going to be hell. I can't tell you how glad I am that I have you to send letters to. I don't seem to have anything in common with the other soldiers so far; they all seem like men, if you can call them that, that only got into the war because they want to kill. How disgusting.
I am sorry that this is such a short letter, but I will write you again in a few days. Write me back, if you can. I would love to hear from you.
Love,
Gil Grissom
She squealed in excitement as she read the letter, saw his writing. She could even almost smell him on the paper. She laid back on her bed and held the paper to her chest as she stared at the ceiling. She was almost worried that he just wasn't going to write to her; but he did. He had kept his word. She had to take a deep breath and bite her lip to keep herself from screaming with giddiness. Once she had calmed down enough to form coherent sentences, she started to write a letter back to him.