THIRTY-SIX, 2.0

I’m thinking there could be a way to find out who is sending me letters. I don’t mind the letters, necessarily, I’m just not very sentimental. The first, for example, was a letter about the sky being blue above a green field, and appeared to describe parts of Iowa. Why Iowa? Who goes to Iowa, on purpose, and stops long enough to send a letter? Stop being thankful for a blue sky, it just is what it is.

Regardless, that was just one letter that, well, was a bit too much from the start. I mean, how blue can the sky actually get, if you’re not coloring a picture of it with a crayon? Boring.

Next letter I received, about a week later, came from a coastal region. There were only three words written on the page, “Can’t swim well.” Then sand inside the envelope. I wonder what happened to that person, a little, but it’s not given me a moment of anxiety. Not like the kind he’s experiencing, surely.

I wonder how they all know my address, no one seems to want to write letters any more. Not that I’m complaining, I’ve got a lot going on trying to convince everyone I know, everyone who knows me, to just invest in me a little bit. I’m not selling anything crazy, and I barely have a business plan, but they should just trust me, you know?

Another letter, just this week. From a little girl in Northern Canada. I know she’s a little girl because that’s how she starts her letter, “I’m five years old.” Like I need to know that off the bat. She asked for some kind of medicine, something for her grandmother. I’m sure I have some somewhere around here, but that means I have to go digging and might find something that, well, is better buried where it lies.

I can use that information about her to find her, though, through my latest discovery. I never thought to actually read the envelopes, there are too many. But when you look at them, on the outside, there’s a return address. Quite the useful detail!

So I have a stack here from each country in the world, where the skies might be blue or the skies might be gray, on any given day. I haven’t been able to keep track, the days float by so fast and everyone is clamoring for my attention. Meanwhile, my own solicitation stack grows higher and higher. I’m just looking for support, that’s all. Just a little bit of help, a little bit of a, well, a group think.

You might not believe it but a lot of positivism can go a long way, if you invest it right.

For the little girl in Canada, I’m about to dig through my shelves in my thi9rd basement. I know the cure of which she speaks, it should be right under the apple encased in glass, the one I keep as a reminder to be careful. But everything under that apple is waiting and waiting to be released, and sometimes, like now, I have to dole a little of it out, just to gain a little favor.

 

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