The letter was marked number 66/41/C/8504 and mixed in with the correspondence of someone else. This was the only reason her name had survived the purging of her family when they sought to scour all trace of her from their history.
Wincing at the creak of old paper straining beneath the pull of modern fingers, Anna unfolded the letter.
“To my dearest Father, I am sorry…”
The rest is faint, the ink is much older than Anna and almost lost to time’s fading. She wonders if whoever wrote it can see someone has found her words and is finally listening.
Back in Shrewsbury our archives are right next to the library and for me the two sites share so many similarities that one always makes me think of the other.