Palm Trees

And I hope it's not too late.

The line replayed itself over and over in my head. Probably because I was reading it over and over. I flipped over the stack of papers. Wasn't there more? Wasn't there something that told me more? Something to at least tell me how you were doing, or where you were going to college? But there wasn't. I was shifting through the papers for nothing. So all I was left with was that question - was it too late?

Why the hell was I even considering it? I wanted to slap myself. You could be completely bullshitting me and I would never know. Yeah, the letters came from you, I know they did. No one else would know what happened between us in this much detail but you. That doesn't mean you were telling the truth about the present. For all I knew, you could have turned into a huge bitch and wrote these all for revenge.

I should have shoved those letters under my bed or something and never looked at them again. But I didn't. I read them over twice, which wasted half of my fucking day. Then I calmly set them down and I made a phone call.

"Hannah, can you watch my house for a few days? I'm going to be out of town. I'll tell you when I get back. I have something I need to do."