Who I Used to Be

“Dear Amanda,
I love you. I always will. We will be lovers forever. I miss you. A lot. When will you come back? I know. You don’t know when. But still. I can dream, right? Anyway, I really want to see you again. I can picture your face perfectly. I can remember the way you smell. Oh, that chocolate lotion of yours. I can remember the way you smile when I would say, ‘I love you.’ I remember that weird sneeze you have… where you squeal that high-pitched squeal. It’s so… cute. I remember how you would play with your hair during class in high school. Do you still do that? Well… anyway. Hopefully you’ll get this letter before I get there. That’s right. I’m coming to get you. Hopefully before you’re birthday. I’ll try to be there in time. I’m not sure I’ll make it…but if everything works out okay.
He sits and he sighs. He ran out of ink. He wants to put more. He can’t. The man lays the letter down on the grave, picks up the pistol, and he goes to meet his love in the clouds up above him.

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