Sebastian spent the rest
of the day not talking to me.
After he had finished
with the story he asked if he could go to the bathroom.
I didn’t follow him.
When he came back he
reeked of weed.
I guess telling his story
required a little self-medicating.
I didn’t say anything.
He was too freaked out to
have sent the letters to me.
Someone else was screwing
with us.
I hadn’t gotten another
letter, though, so maybe they had gotten bored.
At least, I hope they
did.
I needed to get on with
living my life, and Sebastian…
With his blurry,
bloodshot eyes, needed to get on with destroying his.
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