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'Dear Will,

Today is March 22nd 1988. We haven't heard from El yet, but I still have hope she will come back. Everyone has been a wreck since you left. Especially me. I try to convince myself I'm fine, but the truth is, I'm not. I never got to tell you the truth, so here it is.

The truth is when I saw you in kindergarten, I knew it was the best thing becoming your friend. You were the best thing to happen to me, and I don't know when or how I realised it, I think I always kind of knew.

Anyways I tried to paint you something, obviously not as good as your painting. But I think you would like it. I miss you. Sorry I probably sound... stupid for saying that. It's crazy.

I'm trying to keep myself together. I really am. I promise. I promise I'm going to become that writer I told you I would be. I promise I will go crazy with you. Crazy together.

Happy birthday.

Love,

Mike.'

The painting ~ bylerWhere stories live. Discover now