letters to fay // z.m.

06

dear fay,

i was just thinking that the song 'laura palmer' by bastille reminds me of you. i was listening to it this morning on my ipod before it died. it's kind of about running after your dreams, i guess.

"running out into the dark, cutting out a different path, led by a beating heart". that's so you, fay.

i don't know if you've heard the song...you probably have, you have an incredible taste in music.

i went to your house around 9 o'clock. when i knocked on the door, no one answered, so i opened the door and let myself inside.

most of the rooms in the house were empty, all except yours. your room still had posters hanging, pens and pencils scattered on the floor, and a pair of shoes by the closet door. you would've laughed at how shocked i was when i saw the sketch you had drawn on a sheet of paper taped to your wall. it was a dark-haired, dark-skinned nineteen year old with tattoos and a beanie--it was a sketch of me. i was breathless, fay. i didn't know you could do such beautiful art.

what else don't i know about you?

i'm currently writing this from the floor of what i presume was your living room. i can't remember.

the ambiance of the house freaks me out. it's like your family just left in such a rush--why?

that's all i can think about as i gather my bags and unplug my charged ipod and phone from the wall. i'm walking out your door now. maybe i'll come back someday soon. will you?

i've reached your mailbox...i wonder if you've gotten any mail.

wait a moment...

alright, i just opened your mailbox. there's a magazine addressed to your mum and a bill to your dad--but what's this letter addressed to you?

don't worry, fay. i haven't opened it yet. i put the letter in my bag. i don't know if i want to open it or not. i don't know what to do at all.

fay, why didn't you let me run away with you?

-z