Dear Chase Brody,
I saw you in the bar again. You'd probably see me if you looked to your right.
Why are you coming in every night?
What's bothering you so much that your only solution is to drink?
Chase, please tell me what happened.
I've seen you read the last note I left you.
You read it and stuffed it into your pocket. You didn't even bother to try to figure out who left that there for you.
But I'm not mad at you.
How could I be?
All I want to know is what's wrong with you.
You've changed so much since we last spoke.
Can you believe that was 10 years ago?
It's much too long. I would've thought that you would've reached out to me.
I tried to reach out to you.
I don't know if you ignored the number because you knew it was me, or just forgot.
You know, I know that your "fiancé" hated me.
I could see it in her eyes.
There was this burning hatred that I could see whenever I looked at her.
I don't know what I did that made her hate me.
Maybe because I was hanging around you so much?
I don't know. You tell me.
Something I do know though, is the fact that you never loved her.
How do I know that?
Simple.
You could tell by the way you were sitting, talking, and if you could see into your own eyes, you'd see it too.
No wonder you come to the bar to drink.
I'm sure she did something to you.
But I don't know.
You don't talk to me, in fact, you don't talk to anyone.
Chase, please respond.
Sincerely,
An old, concerned friend.
