My phone makes a funny sound every half hour or so. And I don't bother checking it because I know that it's just some insignificant and unnecessary mail entering my inbox. Unless I'm expecting a reply from a friend or something work related. So the funny sounds carry on through the day (I really need to change my email notification tone!) and I just continue ignoring them. Then, whenever I feel like it, I open my inbox and begin the mundane ritual of deleting the mails. Almost on auto mode, I scroll down and keep deleting without even opening them. Gmail then asks me to confirm the delete, and I tap on 'Yes'. But every single one of those times I hear this voice inside my head asking, "You. Why can't it be you in my inbox for once?" It happens even when I read the mails from people I know, and especially the ones from people who knew you. I then imagine what you would say to me if you showed up in my inbox every once in a while. Everyday would be asking for too much perhaps? I think about the things you used to write to me on those blue inland letters. Your familiar handwriting spreading your warmth across the page. Sometimes hurriedly and often, at leisure. I could almost see your wide smile and bighearted laugh lighting up at me. I still have those letters, most of them at least. I can read them anytime I want to and I often do. Sometimes I go through them chronologically and recount the events in both our lives over the decades and the years. And then there are times when I just pick one at random and read. I like to be surprised at what I've chosen and it always, always has the answers to the questions on my mind. You guide me through the sludge and grime even now. You lift me up to taste the sunshine even now. You read me like a favourite book even now. And it's enough to last a lifetime. But I'm greedy when it comes to you and I still want more. Which is why every time I open up my inbox, I always wish to find you there. Your death stopped more than just your beating human heart.