My Dear Ms. Sessum,
Will you quit blogging such nice things about me …
How much easier to give than to forkin’ receive …
Most people never get out from under the rainshadow of their parents’ gaze …
It’s hard turf, hard to chart, hard to navigate. No maps. Lots of dark matter. A black hole or two, to marry.
Fate would bring a sweet soul into my life …
That awful noise you hear is some rusted hinge inside. Damned Fate, prying it open again.
Yours Truly,
Zo
