Geoffrey, out for a walk, stumbled because he was so engrossed in his thoughts. He shook his head at the huge chunk of cement missing from the sidewalk. Had the local Department of Public Works slept on the job?
His mind returned to the guitar chords he wanted to master. He wanted to learn them and learn them well, but his fingers didn’t cooperate. Geoffrey had to become consistent with his practicing, otherwise he wouldn’t progress.
Geoffrey also thought about the communication he’d had with his girlfriend, Jennie. Every time she wrote him a letter, it was like she did him a grand favor. Nowadays, the art of letter-writing had all but disappeared. People wrote emails or nothing, it seemed. Letters seemed warm and comforting. He almost thought Jennie was present because of her letters.
Jennie wouldn’t return from the States for another two months. Geoffrey told himself to write her letters, just in case she needed encouragement for her studies abroad. Phone calls were great, but he needed to write her a letter. He had to stop his notion that writing letters was sissy. Who cared? Jennie’s was the only opinion he wanted.
Geoffrey went to the card shop and bought a pad of stickers. He was surprised at the vast amount of subjects. He’d decorate his letter to Jennie with those stickers because she loved them so.
That night, he wrote the letter. He didn’t put too many stickers on it. After he posted his letter, he felt incredible. So good, in fact, he picked up his guitar again. This time his fingers cooperated!
The next day, he called the Public Works Department and told them nicely about the sidewalk he tripped on. Wouldn’t you know–no one had reported the horrible condition of the walk, so they hadn’t fixed it.
Geoffrey decided it was high time for him to stop judging people alongside his further writing attempts and his guitar playing. He thought that these three things would keep his life sane and happy. He dedicated the rest of his life to Jennie, to whom he owed so much.