Letters

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I am alive. Are you?

R. A. B.


I am alive. Are you?

R. A. B.


I AM ALIVE. Are you?

R. A. B.







- A

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- A. K. A.




This is maddeningly immature for someone who killed my friend.

Painting a smily face sucking on a snake on my door does not count as confirmation you are alive.

Are you alive?

Begrudgingly,

R. A. B.



The silent treatment? Really Belle? I think you should be apologizing. Grovelling for MY forgiveness. You murdered my friend.

He had no choice in killing your sister. You had a choice in killing him. And you did. And you left me.

All of this is your fault. And I am so cross with you I can hardly pen this letter.

I am alive.

Are you?

Could have been yours,

R. A. B.



I understand that you hate me, but we are still married. I am your husband. And no matter how I loathe you, I need to know you're alive.

Matrimonially,

R. A. B.



Why on earth did you send me a severed prick in the mail? This is not humorous.

You owe me a letter.

Yours,

R. A. B



I've met someone else. Have you?

R. A. B.


I lied to elicit a letter. However in hindsight, I realize such a notion will push you farther from me.

I am still cross with you.

R. A. B.


Fuck off.

A. K. A.

Who taught you to make a howler? Someone with no forethought clearly.

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