DISCLAIMER: I do not own, produce, or have any incorporation with CSI. I want to take the time to apologize for my lack of understanding how Fanfiction worked, I had previously added Chapter 2 as a new story. Little did I know the Contents/Chapter Icon was wavering right in front of my eyes. Sorry for the literary inconvenience.
The blunt edge of the letter opener was not working. The envelope was made of sturdy but elaborate stationery. Sara was not even sure there were any stores that sold stationery of this high-end quality in Las Vegas. Frustrated with the uncuttable envelope, Sara decided to go primal and used her fingers to tear off the top edge of the envelope.
"Ouch," she exclaimed as blood spouted from her paper cut. But she paid no heed and continued to open the envelope. Inside the envelope was a soft delicate paper of silvery sheen. Upon closer inspection, when she pulled it out, the paper was slightly transparent and soft to the touch. Blood from her cut had seeped into the letter creating an effect not unlike the time in the fourth grade when she had a nose bleed and had to mop up it up with a tissue.
She laid the soft paper down onto the coffee table, straightening it with her fingers. The lettering was not typed, it resembled hand printed calligraphy. Pretty old-fashioned, she thought to herself. She didn't know anyone who knew how to do calligraphy, let alone admit going to a calligraphy class. Sucking on her paper cut, she read the letter:
The moon once had a lover,
By the sea,
Who proclaimed his love
With much vivacity,
Darling, I love you so
He said, but truly love should not keep
Our distance so far away
Steal away during the night
Shine your light on me so bright
Together our love shall conquer
The sun, the stars, and all the others
If our love naught be true
You and I shall never make it through
"You can't be serious," she said to herself. The last time she had acquired a poetic love letter was during her junior year of college and even the whole roses are red, violets are blue attached to a bouquet of daises didn't make up for the fact her boyfriend had cheated on her with a high-schooler.
Sara felt startled by the poem—it was touching, but it felt very personal, too personal in fact. She felt somewhat violated that someone somewhere was sitting at his (or her, you just never know) desk penning romantic poems onto fancy paper with a gold-tipped calligraphy pen. Why on earth would someone be sending her love letters? She didn't know anyone who had the designs for her. The only places she circulated were work or the grocery store.
Like a true C.S.I., Sara turned the letter over if by chance there were any distinct markings or smudges. There were none. Next, she inspected the outside of the envelope. Aside from being spotted with her blood, there was nothing malicious about the envelope. She looked inside the envelope and caught sight of something: a small golden scarab no bigger than a thumb's nail. Holding it in her palm, the inanimate metal beetle was completely golden and had no other color aside from its iridescent blue wings. There was a small clasp protruding from the scarab's head so it could hang from a chain.
Jewelry and a love letter, two items sure to win a woman's heart, but a concoction for romance? Sara didn't think so as she clasped the little scarab onto the necklace she was wearing. She rather fancied the little guy, but she couldn't help but to think about where he came from and even the bigger question, who he would lead her to.
Sara brushed her teeth and changed into her pajamas. Lying awake yet again in her bed, she thought about the poem. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the poem, she felt a spiritual affinity for it. The moon and her lover by the sea spoke vowels, she could see a tragic Tristan and Isolde, a Romeo and Juliet, or a Heloise and Abelard. Why tragic lovers as the central theme of the poem she didn't know, but it had the right fit. Love was never easy and too many obstacles lay in the path of love. She had learned this the hard way. She learned that some men were unattainable and that loving them hurt more and more with each passing day. You could convince yourself that you were stronger without love, but who exactly were you kidding. Squeezing the tiny golden scarab gave her some hope that life was going to take a turn for the better. Soon, Morpheus claimed her tired body and she drifted of to sleep.