your voice once, maybe I’d get one month. Maybe one week. Maybe one day. I was greedy enough to try.
A tear hit the page and made one word blur.
I wiped at it, angry with my own face.
The letter went on.
The house is yours if you want it. Sell it, burn my letters, curse my name, do what you need. But if there’s any piece of you that still wonders what continue reading …
