In the aftermath of her twin sister's tragic death, Reagan Sinclair finds herself in a never-ending battle against paralyzing panic attacks and drowning in grief. Desperate to just survive each day, Reagan's world is turned upside down when Paris un...
Today's prompt: (Something you want the person you lost to know)
Dear Robin,
Do you remember Waldo? The Anderson's cantankerous old tabby cat we tormented throughout the better part of our childhood? We would lure him over by the gate with an opened can of tuna, plug our noses while he ate, and then take him with us on our various adventures. He'd be a bodyguard with us as we protected the president, a travel buddy, or the baby when we played house. Every day we would go home with cuts and scratches because Waldo made it clear that he didn't want to be any of those things and Mom would lose her mind over every mysterious injury. No one knew about Waldountil Dad hugged me one day right after playing with him and started sneezing up a storm. We weren't allowed to play with him after that.
Robin, to be honest, I'm not sure how all of this works. How death works. I don't know if you're reading over my shoulderas I write this, or if you're experiencing these things with me. If so, these letters may be redundant, but I digress. I'm going to give you a life update anyway. I got a cat like we always wanted to. His name is Walter and he's perpetually grumpy and a little on the skinny side. He doesn't seem to like Paris very much forwhatever reason but the dislike goes both ways. They have a love-hate relationship, emphasis on the hate. He's hairless so dads gonna like him too, who knew we could have asked for a cat of the hairless variety all along? I'm learning things about myself and it's mostly because of Paris but they're new and exciting and I've never felt like this before. I've started painting and enjoying it again. I don't think I'll ever be the same girl who used to paint flowers on herpockets but I'm starting to understand that it's perfectly okay not to be. I'm trying Roe, I really am. I'm never truly going to get over you and maybe that's a good thing, I'll never stop grieving you because I'll never stop loving you.
Love Reagan.
Samara: I'm coming over to get drunk and probably make some unwise choices
Reagan: Sounds like just what I need! Count me in.
Samara: Awesome! Let me check if Luke and Darius are available. We'll turn it into a full-blown event.
Reagan: okay, get back to me.
Samara: Luke says every event needs a theme.
Reagan: What's the theme?
Samara: Bring a Friend! Of the alcohol variety that is.
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I'M PAINTING OUTSIDE ON the balcony when Samara walks in, holding a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand and a box of semi-permanent pink dye in the other. Her hair is styled in two Dutch braids, and the bags beneath her eyes are stained a light purple. "You didn't let Walter get out, did you?"
