"I hope she is alright", he told to himself. Holding his pen in his hand spinning it unsuccessfully each time, he was trying to perfect the art of pen spinning subconsciously. The heat was unbearable. The slow spinning fan was doing no good other than making strange creaking noise to scare off the timid breeze that was trying to enter the room. The sweat from his palm wetted the paper before the ink in his pen did, writing invisibly his feelings on the paper which no one could read. The room was dark in contrast to the bright sunlight that was scorching the earth giving tough competition to the hell itself. But these are no match to the burning desires of people who live there. Be it their dreams or aspirations, they burn them from inside and the heat from the sun from the outside holding them as prisoners who can do nothing but pray for an early death to stop the suffering. He was no exception to this. But he had hope, something that is a rarity now. The thing about hope is that it is like a game of chances. Having hope doesn't really mean anything but it will be too late when you realize it. She promised to write him as soon as she finds a college. A promise he believes that she still holds onto. It has been three years now and he has just given his finals. "May be she didn't find time to write a letter, or may be her parents are too strict and she can't escape their watchful eyes", he searched for reasons to defend her from himself. But his heart could feel her love. Perhaps words and letters are not needed to remind them how much they love each other. The act of him checking the mailbox has become a routine for the last three years. Electricity bill, loan payment dues, embrace Christianity, easy credit card registration are the ones he gets, all of them filled with the stench of money and nothing else. All the romantic movies he has seen were suggesting him that his parents are playing the villain's part in his love story by hiding the letters that have been coming, but he has never summoned up the courage to confront them about this. Sometimes it makes him wonder if its the lack of courage that is stopping him from asking them or is it the lack of trust and confidence that he has on his love. Unable to bear the heat, he gets up from his chair and heads out straight to the park for it is the only place filled with the remnant of what we call as trees. He was walking aimlessly in circles around the park. No sound of birds, or the rustling of leaves. Everything was still except him which made it look like he was travelling through time while everything else didn't. He couldn't keep his troubles to himself anymore. He ran back home as fast as he could. He went straight to his mom and told how he didn't get any kind of response from his love. He was waiting for his mom to get angry on him and give him a long lecture on career and other things that are important. But to his surprise she didn't get angry, she smiled and said, "My son, she didn't send a letter but she has made her message clear." Finally he got her message through his mom. Tears rolled down his eyes, but this time he made sure that it was his ink that touched his note first.