Simplicity at it's finest

Click. Clack. Click.

Donny had been sitting on the floor with his laptop for over three hours. His thighs were sore, from the heat emanating from the bottom of his two year old laptop he bought himself for Christmas, and because he neglected to switch sitting positions in the three hours he was on the floor.

He wanted to make sure that it would be just right, as close to perfect as he could make it. Donny was no wordsmith, which caused him to repeat the process he had become accustomed to: typing and deleting, typing and deleting. His initial idea of writing a letter seemed a lot easier than it was shaping up to be. Why was it so hard for him to just write down what he felt? He knew what he wanted to say, but the trick was saying it in a way that wouldn't sound cliché or too corny.

His letter idea morphed into a rhyming seventh-grade-esque, unoriginal poem, sampling love song lyrics, so he scratched that idea as well. He tried just writing down exactly what he was feeling, but that turned into an essay, complete with an introduction, body, and conclusion. It was hard not to be discouraged and give up on the entire thing.

When Donny thought that it was time to throw in the towel, he looked down at his hand and smiled. On the back of his left hand there was a smiley face drawn in pen, green ink. Seeing that little image on his hand had refueled Donny, like downing three energy drinks. He took a deep breath and typed a few words onto the white document on his computer screen. After a few more clicks, he stopped. He was done. It was that simple.

“Perfect,” he said to himself, rereading his short message over and over in his head.

There, on the screen in front of him was the best thing he had ever written:

Jasmine,

You are the air that I breath.
I love you.
Never forget that.