[This. Is. A. Letter. Hand written in ink that hasn't, miraculously, smeared despite an impatient hand. He's had more than enough practice over the lifetimes he's lived to fuck it up, and while it's not rolled into a scroll it is put into an envelope and sealed with a wax stamp of one of the rings he wears on his hands. And then it finds itself in her inbox, along with a little printed out slip of paper, and a small black-papered parcel that contains a small 4'x5' painting of her, racy but not too revealing.]
Dearest Miss Ives,
Long overdue is this letter I'm afraid, but there's no time better than the present to make up for the past's mistakes. It's been a long while since I've written like this and to be honest, the nostalgia does summon from me a desire to continue. So should you find yourself in need of a pen pal such as myself, let us continue? How better to document our sordid affairs, to plot the future meet ups and keep record of it all than this? I mean, it's safer than the cloud.
Wishing you a fine holiday season should you be inclined to celebrate it, and I look forward to meeting up with you once again in the new year. My pencil yearns to follow the curves of your body on paper once again.
a letter !! gasp
Dearest Miss Ives,
Long overdue is this letter I'm afraid, but there's no time better than the present to make up for the past's mistakes. It's been a long while since I've written like this and to be honest, the nostalgia does summon from me a desire to continue. So should you find yourself in need of a pen pal such as myself, let us continue? How better to document our sordid affairs, to plot the future meet ups and keep record of it all than this? I mean, it's safer than the cloud.
Wishing you a fine holiday season should you be inclined to celebrate it, and I look forward to meeting up with you once again in the new year. My pencil yearns to follow the curves of your body on paper once again.
Sincerely,
Theodore