Dear Writer,

Tonight I planned to write to you. Tonight I also planned to take out the trash and never come back, but I did one of those things, so I am just going to rest for a minute now and write to you. I want to ask you about what you did. When did you leave, exactly? And why did you? Did you know what you were leaving behind? Because this is why I think I can’t leave, you see. I feel I know too much about what I will leave behind. As a matter of a fact, it is all I can think of. Because I realize every damn thing I see every damn day is every damn thing I would be leaving, I will be leaving, I mean. Because I am leaving, you know. I am just trying to figure some things out. Like, for example. How far in advance did you know you were going to leave? Did you know...

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