Little Gifts She sat patiently at the kitchen table, a mug of cold tea wrapped in her pale, slender hands. With blank grey eyes she watched as raindrops chased each other down the window, getting faster and faster, hearing the drone of the rain getting louder and heavier until the dark water on the street outside the gate was deep enough to cover her toes. She sighed and stood up, walking into her monochrome kitchen, where she poured the contents of her cup into the sink. Looking up at the clock, she let out another sigh. The postman wouldn't be coming today. She walked out of her kitchen, tugging at the locks of dark hair which had slipped out of their bun. Her bare feet made no noise on the wooden parquet, and stayed silent even as she passed onto the thick carpet in the living room. The calendar above the fireplace read April 15th, yet what she expected hadn't come. She walked further into the cold room, her eyes taking in what she already knew was there. The empty spot on the far left of the sofa, the reading glasses on the coffee table, stiff from disuse; the history books which lined the bookshelves, dusted yet untouched. However, the mantlepiece was lined with little wonders. Twelve little gifts from twelve different countries, each one having arrived on the 15th of every month. A crystal Eiffel tower from Paris, a two inch Buddha figurine from India, coffee beans from Brazil. Behind each gift was a folded letter, the same ones she had sent every month, the same ones that returned with a gift, every month. She carefully picked up the last three which had been returned to her, her expression staying blank as she read her own writing on the near-blank pages. 'Where are you now?' 'I miss you.' 'Are you ever coming back?' She thought about the last letter she had sent, the two words she had never written to him before, the ones she wrote in the midst of her anguish at the realisation that he had been gone for more than a year. 'Come home.' The rain outside continued to pour, and the girl in the living room put back the letters, dusted the books and polished the reading glasses. She had always dreaded the day when the 15th came and her gift never arrived, but now it had come and she was relatively calm about it. She would send another letter, and wait for May to arrive. She padded silently over to the desk in the corner of the room, and, sitting down on the stool, picked up a blank sheet of paper and a pen. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and twirled the pen in her fingers, bringing the tip to rest just above the white paper before her. A slight noise interrupted her, and she put down the pen. Although barely audible, she stood up at the sound of a key turning in the lock. Her lower lip trembling, she stepped out into the hallway, facing the door. It swung open, letting in wind and rain. A tall figure stepped through and shooking his wet hair like a dog, spraying the walls with rainwater. He looked up at her and grinned, his bright eyes crinkling with joy. 'Hey,' He said, dumping his soaked bag on the floor. 'I'm home.' This was the last gift she received, it was by far the best one yet, and it arrived perfectly on time.