Miss, It’s Just a Cold

                                                                       Letter

Have you ever experienced death?

Ah, of course, if you think about it rationally, the answer would be no.

Still, I thought I’d ask—just in case someone out there might have experienced it.

Regrettably, I haven’t.

I doubt anyone reading this has, either.

Honestly, even if I were told I’d die soon, I don’t think it would feel real.

Maybe it’s because I’ve lived happily up until now!

Unlike the poor souls out on the streets, I’ve always had a full meal and a roof over my head to sleep under.

Ahaha, what a great blessing, isn’t it?

Not having lived on the streets myself, I can’t say for sure how miserable that life is.

Of course, this talk of blessings and whatnot isn’t coming from me—it’s what the people who raised me always said.

I’m not sure if this is something a noble family’s daughter is supposed to appreciate.

Honestly, I find it all a bit cliché.

A tragic life, treated unfairly, and now a hollow ending—that’s just so predictable.

It’s one of those absurd, unremarkable deaths you see everywhere.

Not dying of old age, not in childbirth, not trampled under a horse’s hoof—

But instead, coughing a bit, spitting blood, and just dying like that.

How utterly trivial.

It might suit me quite well, though.

Still, I don’t want to die.

But what can I do?

I was born this way.

The thought of dying soon terrifies me—

So much so that I can’t even put on a brave face.

But that doesn’t mean I plan to pour out all the resentment I’ve held in my heart.

What if I get thrown out of the house for that?

No matter how much I’ve been mistreated, the thought of my body being left behind, uncared for, is just too sad.

Even if I’ve been treated poorly, at least someone would burn my body and toss the ashes into a river.

Or not.

Still…

The lower part of the letter found in the trash was torn.