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Room 317, Thursday Night
Z sat on her bed, writing a letter that would never be sent.
Dear Jack,
Happy freakin' Thanksgiving. School pie is much better than shelter pie. How's prison pie?
Things I'm Thankful For This Year
A roof over my head.
A bed.
I never have to sit through a sermon to get dinner.
Things are going all right here. I guess. I'm going to classes and stuff. My roommate cut his hand off. He says it was an accident, but I'm not sure I buy that. And now he's gone off somewhere, so, yeah. Bridge says hi. Actually, that's a lie. I haven't talked to Bridge in a couple of days. He's got a girlfriend now and I don't want to be a bother. But I'm sure he'd say hi.
Do you know? Did Cruger tell you where we came from? Bet he didn't. I--oh, screw this.
Z viciously tore the letter out of her notebook, tore it into pieces, and chucked it in the trash. "This is a stupid holiday," she grumbled.
Dear Jack,
Happy freakin' Thanksgiving. School pie is much better than shelter pie. How's prison pie?
Things I'm Thankful For This Year
A roof over my head.
A bed.
I never have to sit through a sermon to get dinner.
Things are going all right here. I guess. I'm going to classes and stuff. My roommate cut his hand off. He says it was an accident, but I'm not sure I buy that. And now he's gone off somewhere, so, yeah. Bridge says hi. Actually, that's a lie. I haven't talked to Bridge in a couple of days. He's got a girlfriend now and I don't want to be a bother. But I'm sure he'd say hi.
Do you know? Did Cruger tell you where we came from? Bet he didn't. I--oh, screw this.
Z viciously tore the letter out of her notebook, tore it into pieces, and chucked it in the trash. "This is a stupid holiday," she grumbled.