Dear nephew, 

It has been long since I last saw you, perhaps I will have a hard time recognizing you the next we meet. I have been told you are bedridden, it sounds like you have inherited the ailments of your mother's family, but don't fret, you are young and spry. Unfortunately, I'm sure you are getting plenty of bothersome mail worrying and asking about your state... I do not want to add to that burden, instead, I write this extensive letter as a way to entertain you while you're confined to your chambers, with one of your bizarre uncle's stories.  

Amongst men, there are those who deem prayer for fools, yet when illness strikes, we all resort to the same thing. Let me tell you a story of prayer so that your illness goes by faster.

During the first rains of the year, I found myself seeking shelter at the heart of our capital. The heavens had a grudge against us pícaros, who were messing about at such odd hours of the afternoon. 

Thus, I entered the cathedral. Unsurprisingly, I was not the only sly fox that had snuck in; the halls were filled, the benches crammed with spontaneous prayer, for what else could you do in a holy building? I took a seat at the back, reflecting on the last time I had stood in a house of God. As you know, Christians have not been kind to me, but faithful desire, no matter the object of adoration, must not be hindered by a loud crowd. 

Time passed, the rain ceased and people waned, I had lost track of the hours, for I was focused on something else... To my astonishment, I had fallen asleep. When I woke, the echoes of the crowd were gone completely and the cold halls were preternaturally still. A sense of delight filled me deeply, the only other remaining figure sat not too far in front of me. A person clad in deep reds and blacks, soft linens hiding their hair and head. What had I prayed for before slumber took me? I couldn't recall. 

The person must have felt my sight tracing their silhouette because they turned delicately backwards with the intent of uttering something. 

"I've missed you so" ~ emanated from the moretta upon their face, an alleviating voice. Somehow I had heard it before, my heart ached terribly as if they were a lover lost. I had missed them too, desperately. 

Time passed, and I could not bring myself to express my longing with words or to justify my spontaneously-discovered absence, for I felt it would dishonour us. Having never loved, I never had a lover to lose, yet hearing their voice and letting myself sink into their eyes, appeased my spirit. 

Nightfall threatened to catch us, I stood up and tied shorter the distance between us. Closing my face to theirs, I felt compelled to grace their covered cheek with my lips. "I miss you, endlessly" And with that confession, I left. 

Never was I puzzled by our encounter after that, but I did fear returning to the cathedral in case I did not see them there. Alas, my worries were naught after braving my return, for chance had it that I would always have a moment alone with them to enjoy the silence of their company. Now I am far, not having been to the capital for some years. I wonder, when I return, shall they be waiting for me?

In this way, my story concludes. Dear nephew, I do hope your fever goes down by the time this reaches you. I've heard that you were taller than your mother? Probably taller than me as well, then. Do my recollections inspire you? I pray they don't bore you, at least. Please take care, your uncle would like to see you again, I miss you so!