Tell me what you wrote me about. Was it about how strange everything is? How different? Was it about past or present or both? Mine were always both. Things I missed, including you, but those hotdogs too. Remember? Two for a penny on Coney Island. Who knows what was in them, but they were good. Hotdogs, that's what I wrote about. Maybe it's good you didn't receive any of them. And, of course I don't have to thank you, but I'm going to anyway.
You're right.
I'm flattered you like the drawings at all. I can tell you that a lot of people see you how I see you, Atticus included. The photographs can get me down sometimes, because I can remember how young we were, how naïve, but hopeful too. I'm sorry if the photographs were the wrong thing to bring up. I didn't think about how dissonant they might seem. I should admit too that since the serum, my memory's eidetic. There are somethings I wish I couldn't remember, but I do. I'm sure you know what I mean.
Oui, je comprends. I don't think that's what I'd do if I could set things on fire with my brain, but, admittedly, I might just stick to roasting hotdogs. Did you manage to talk him down, by the way? Is it just me is or is Quebecois hard to understand anyway? But, yeah, I know what you mean. Either it goes to show how adaptable people are, or how much memory affects us, or both. What do you think?
How is it, having a home? It's been a long time, hasn't it? I liked that about Repose too, though. It felt like Brooklyn a long, long time ago. Like a neighborhood, with all the in-fighting, and gossip, and friendliness, and everything. I got the same sensation of recognition, of some of the smaller towns in Alsace, places like that, that we only ever saw burning or pillaged. I'm glad Repose is treating you well, regardless. Atticus says you were running a bar for a while and are living in a house with other people. Tell me about that. Tell me about you and Atticus, too. (I did mention gossip, didn't I?)
I'll make sure I bring you a present. It's not everyday you turn a century old. Don't worry. I'm onto the Idaho border next. I'll be plagued by wasps and pine trees. Maybe after that I'll surprise you. And thanks, Te Matt, for writing back. It means a lot to me.