My mom gave me a birthday present, for the first time since middle school; it was notebook, leather skinned, with a note in the front, for what you cannot say. Well, this letter is from the book, a ripped out page.
In fact, see that red stain on the edge? That’s my blood.
Ha, creepy, right?
Well, don’t worry, I simply got a paper cut. Nothing vampire-ish about it.
But then I realized, sitting in my room last night: what if, when you write me back (eventually), it hurts.
Like, really hurts.
Will I get a paper cut heart?
