...
Clearing out the loft of my mother's house, I find a box in the attic. It was buried under old sheets and blankets. It is made of wood, and it looks old. It looks clean, and well cared for. I open it. Inside I see a medal. I can't identify it just by looking at it. I will have to google it when I make my descent from the loft space and retrieve my phone from where it sits on the mantlepiece. It is heavy, made of what could be silver. The ribbon looks as good as new. Underneath the medal is folded paper. I take it and open it. It is a letter.
"My darling," it begins. "I hope this note finds you well. I am sorry we parted in a storm of argument. Please know, I love you. When I return we will marry. I promise."