A Letter Left in a Bookstore

A Microfiction Series by Tales of Meera

Letter No. 1
“A Letter from the Child Within”

Tanvi wasn’t looking for anything that day.
Just a quiet hour in her favourite book café — a warm corner of the world where the scent of ground coffee mingled with yellowing pages and unspoken dreams.

She browsed lazily, fingers tracing familiar titles. She paused at a book she wouldn’t usually pick — Unforgettable Love. Romance wasn’t her genre. But something about the dreamy watercolor cover pulled her in. She didn’t question it.

She ordered her cappuccino, settled into her favourite window seat, and opened the book.
That’s when she saw it — a folded paper tucked gently between the pages. Not crisp like a receipt or a forgotten bookmark. This felt… intentional.

She opened it.

Crayon-colored. Smudged slightly at the edges. Handwriting that wobbled with both youth and truth.

She began to read:

⸻

Are you still scared of thunder too?
Or just pretending you aren’t — like always?

Maybe now it sounds like a drumroll for something fun.
Or maybe the sky clapping for you.

Do you still love being a kid?
Do you still notice the little things — the way the light dances on walls, or how the world smells after it rains?

I hope you still eat mangoes with your hands.
Messy. Joyful. Unapologetic.

Who am I?

I’m the fearless child you used to be.
Before you learned to please everyone.
Before you got scared of everything that could go wrong.

I used to believe in fairies.
Used to sing in the shower.
Used to wear whatever made me feel like magic — not just what looked “right.”

Am I still here somewhere?
Or did you lose me in the noise —
this ungrateful race to a destination we can’t even name?

I once believed serious people forget how to twirl.
And today, I think you might be remembering what fun feels like again.

Suddenly, I — the kid inside you — want to ask something:

And hey… do we still laugh?
Please say yes.

Anyway, I love you.
Even if you forgot.

⸻

Tanvi sat in silence. The café moved gently around her, soft clinks and quiet murmurs in the background. But inside her, something had shifted.

She could feel the child she once was — not just as a memory, but as a presence. Watching her. Waiting for her to remember.

She pressed the letter to her chest, eyes soft with recognition.

And then, almost involuntarily, she smiled.
The kind of smile that begins in the soul and rises like sunlight.

“Yes,” she whispered.
“We still laugh. Starting now.”