It was snowing when Sasuke was on the way to the nearest post office. Snow lashed his face, thick, large flakes landed in his hair and clothing and ran over his face as ice-cold water. The disheveled black hair fell unruly into his eyes, blocking his view even more and an angry growl escaped his lips.
If he hesitated now, he would never go ahead with what he intended.
He would turn back, tear the letter into a thousand shreds and finally burn it in the wastebasket.
The content was too absurd. Too confidential. Too personal.
Just too much.

Oh yeah, then why did he do it?
Well exactly, it was an experiment for school.
The final class teacher was a bit, no, very weird and demanded a detailed written description of the development of old communication channels in modern times.
Translated this means:
In this day and age, when digital media, SMS and e-mail predominate, who would still be able to write letters if most young people's understanding of German left a lot to be desired?

Oh, he almost forgot:
The kind of letters they all had to write were, how could it be otherwise, love letters.
God, who wrote something like that today?
Wasn't an HDL or some other stupid sign really enough to show his affection?
Why the hell waste time, paper, and patience when it was easy and quick to get it?
Not to mention that a Sasuke Uchiha never needed something like expressions of love to be well received by the girls.
Bullshit.

But still, or maybe because of it, the task appealed to him in a certain way.
Of course, he had only inconspicuously collected more information about the stupid project and was now standing with the said letter in front of the mailbox.
First he had described his personality in more detail, his dark, cool character, things he hated, which this column had been covered in great detail, a tiny part of his past that was really very tiny, and finally the things he hoped for.This part of the letter was the most honest thing he had ever revealed about himself.
He had captured all of his hopes, desires, dreams and longings that he secretly harbored.
Most recently, he had enclosed a poem that he had copied in his teacher's book before the work ended up tattered and illegible in the trash.
At least he had refrained from lighting it, and for that reason alone the old woman should be grateful to him.
For her sake, he finally did not dare to make this attempt.
Rather, he was curious to see if there was a person who recognized the intent behind it, which he wanted to portray.
Namely to find someone who liked him because of - and not in spite of - these qualities.
But Sasuke didn't think too many chances.

To be on the safe side, he had made countless copies of the letter and addressed them to various strangers from the phone book.
Many of them abroad.
The letters should reach the whole world.
Maybe he would show up on the internet.
At this thought his lips twisted into a faint smile and with a pop the letter landed in the yellow box provided for it.