Write It Down

Dear Mr. Barakat,
You're thanking me, when in reality, I should be the one thanking you right now. As you can imagine, an anonymous advice column in a small town paper isn't exactly a journalist's dream. But, with the words you wrote on that paper, it made me remember why I started this. Because I had a passion for the truth. And, dammit, if I have to wait behind a fake name, I'll do it if it means that I can one day change the world with my journalistic styled writings.
So, thank you my friend, I wish I knew you in the real.
But for now, this is farewell. Hopefully in the future, I'll get the pleasure of meeting you.
Yours truly,
Morrie.

Jack stared at the words in black and white. Sure, he knew that someday, eventually, Morrie may have to read what he wrote. But he also knew there was no chance in hell he would reply.

Especially not in pen.

Especially not personally. It puzzled him, however, that he took the time to write him back and send it to his personal address, but still answered to the name "Morrie."

Jack knew that wasn't the name on his birth certificate. But, honestly it didn't matter. Getting a small bit of recognition from someone so prominate in his life, as strange as it may be, was enough.

buuut... maybe, if I write back, I can get him to tell me who he is... Thoughts ran through Jack's mind. Should I? or Should I not?

Eventually, the little part of him that wanted to know pushed him just to the point where he was convinced that it didn't matter if he could ever convince Morrie to give him his real name, it was worth the try.
He could be neighbors with the guy for all he knew.

It might sound strange, but through all the years, Jack has never had a friend. Not one.

And, in Morrie's letter, when he called Jack a friend, it gave Jack a feeling inside that he had never had before. He felt like he belonged, for once.

And as he picked up his pen and started on his second letter to his favorite hometown-hero, he felt like he was catching up with an old pal.

Dear Morrie,
Hello, sir. Its just me again, Jack Barakat. And after receiving what I do believe is the first personal response you have ever given, I felt extremely compelled to write you again.
I don't know why I feel so connected to you, sir, but through your words alone I feel as if I have gained a friend. Which is a feeling I am not too accustomed to.
I know you are just now meeting me, but after being a dedicated reader for over a year now, I feel as if I know you inside in out. Which I know must sound silly.
I put a picture of myself in the envelope, hoping that maybe it will persuade you to trust me with your name. Just your name.
I want to know the real Morrie.
I want to know you.
With care,
Jack.

And as Jack sent this letter to his local idol, his new penpal, he grinned openly.

For the first time in a long, long time.

---

"There is no way I can read all of these tonight, sir!" Alex tried not to raise his voice as he spoke to his editor. "There's over two hundred..."

"Gaskarth, you've got the easiest job at the ledger. And you've let your stock pile grow too large. Get on it. Now." His editor walked away from Alex's small cubicle with a smirk on his face.
This was all too much, there was no way Alex could finish this. Absolutely no way.

He decided to start with the most recent, as they would probably be the most timely and the most useable.

From the bottom of the stack he picked up a letter with strangely familiar hand writing.

The return address? Jack Bassam Barakat.

A smile came over Alex's face as he quickly opened the letter. It was nice having someone really appreciate his work for once. Sure, he had readers.
But none of them were like Jack. Jack was real. Jack cared.

Through the course of the letter, Alex found himself laughing at Jack's vocabulary. It was nice to read something that wasn't completely illiterate.

He looked inside the envelope to find the picture that Jack had mentioned. He was attractive, for a guy. He had brown, almost black hair that was spiked in every direction, and big rich brown eyes. Alex smiled when he noticed the tight skinny jeans and purple v-neck he was sporting.

Nice style, and a hearty vocab.

Jack really was different, and Alex liked that. A lot.

Then there was the issue of whether or not to release his name to this random write-in. Of course, he wanted to, but was that allowed?

It honestly didn't matter.
Jack was right, there was some strange connection between the two of them. So, they would meet eventually in real life anyway, right?

Why stop fate?

This was Alex's logic as he once again picked up a pen to write to one of his readers.

This could be dangerous, for his job and his self-mind, but there was no way he was going to let the chance of becoming close to someone as gentle as Jack Barakat.

He was going to give Jack goosebumps with this letter.

This letter was going to be the story he never had the chance to write. And the one person reading it, Alex just knew was the most important reader of them all. Ever.