Chapter 11
A Few MonthsLater
August 15th
East, my favorite and only pen pal,
Can you believe this Friday you get out?
Are you sure you don’t want a ride? You’re only an hour away. I’ll gladly come meet you and bring you back to civilization.
To think we went from weekly letters to writing every few days, and then weekly phone calls. I don’t want to be a stereotype. But when it comes to you, I can’t help it.
I’m falling for you. The good girl falls for the inmate. My parents are going to love this, and I couldn’t even give a rat’s ass. You understand me in ways no one ever has. I can’t wait for this weekend.
I think I’ll know you the second I see you. Our souls were meant to find each other; of that, I’m sure. I’m afraid to speak the truth for fear that you’ll run. Hell, Kennedy tells me I’m crazy at least ten times a day when I talk about you.
But I don’t care.
I’ve put my heart on the line. It’s out there, hanging in the breeze, waiting for you to claim or reject it.
If you want to remain friends and nothing more, I understand. It’s kind of impossible and abnormal to fall for a stranger, don’t you think?
In case you don’t want to be only friends, and you want to be more, I’ll be at The Rose on Saturday night at 7 P.M. as we agreed. And underneath my dress will be a surprise only for you.
I can’t believe I just wrote that. Look what you’ve done to me, East.
And in what I’m hoping is a very rare chance, if this is the last time we speak, please know that I’ve loved writing you, and I treasure each and every letter you’ve ever sent me.
Your favorite pen pal,
Little bird