The Memoir of a Red Envelope

I knew I was destined for something important, that's what we were made for. We were not the average, no we stood out and reached out to those who received us. I was laying flat on my back, facing the glass of velvety wine, for some reason we get teamed up quite often, I guess humans can't pour their heart out without pouring a glass of wine first. It was quite in the room, my master was rubbing his temples searching deep within for the right words.

He breathed in deeper, took a slug of wine and started to write. His rough hands moving with such delicacy and tenderness. Down, at the pit of my stomach I felt jealous, jealous of who would receive the letter, jealous that he could feel such an emotion that they called "love". Finally he stopped scribbling, hesitated and signed. Taking yet another drink he folded the letter as carefully as if contemplating if he should send it or not. This is where my journey began, sliding the letter in, he closes my top, decorated me with foreign stamps and just like that my bags were packed. Down the mailbox I went and into the world.

Joined by many others, I knew I was to meet many envelopes from all over the world. Some had the same purpose, others was simply a taunting bill-carrier. Each told me their stories, some of grief and death others celebrating joy and birth. We took pride of the emotions we were carrying, knowing that that’s as close as we would get to feel them. I met some so brave they beated their chest like warriors taking on this journey with no fear, but what I had was a beating heart, my master’s heart.

The next few days were but a blur, envelope's faces began to seem all the same, for what we wanted was the same. We yearned to reach our destination. Soon I began to hear exciting whispers of our arrival. Quickly approaching our journey's end we were separated into cities, then into neighborhoods, getting closer and closer.

I would be filled with rapture if I could say that I delivered the letter into her hands, that her face flushed to a deep passionate red. I wish I could say that her heart was beating as fast and as strong as my masters, that my mission, my responsibility was complete. But, I would be lying. One simple tiny organizing mistake changed the course of their lives, I had failed. I was delivered to the wrong address and quickly thrown into the trash. I was lost, and with me my master's heart. A broken dream. A broken heart. A broken little red envelope.