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Hi Magda,
Not sure if you’ll get this. Pretty funny that they even sell postcards in Lebanon, huh. Perks of living in the middle of the continental USA. Hope you’re having a good time out west. California was a good place to escape, for me. I have no idea if this’ll get to you — I found your aunt’s address through some tax records. Hope that’s okay. You don’t have to reply or anything, just wanted to let you know that I’m thinking of you. In a non-creepy way, I promise. Just want to know you’re okay.
- Sam W.
Hi Magda,
I’m actually in your state right now. Up in the redwoods, like an hour north of Sacramento. Far away from your aunt (don’t worry). I’ll be here for the next three weeks. Postal service is slow, but I figure from Sacramento to you can’t take more than a week. Take a look at the date in the top right and give me a call if you want to meet up and it’s been less than three weeks since I sent this. Give me a call anyway, even if it’s after three weeks. Your choice. My number’s under your address.
- Sam
Hey Magda,
Sorry, I think my last message was kind of pushy. You don’t have to call. We just got back to Lebanon, so my address is still the PO box I gave you when we met. I picked up this postcard from Idaho so at least it’s prettier than the Kansas ones, if you just want to hang it up on your fridge. Do you have a fridge? Maybe that’s a stupid question.
- Sam
Hi Magda,
Been a few months. Just wanted to let you know that I’m thinking of you.
- S
Hey M,
They’re burning a stretch of forest not too far from you. Just a small stretch, a controlled burn because of the drought. I wanted to ask if you can smell it from where you are. I smelled a forest fire once when I was at Stanford — did I ever tell you I was at Stanford? Funny things can happen when you go somewhere new. I never thought I’d go to college. And I’d never seen an orange sky like that, with the forest fire. We stayed inside and closed all the windows because of the smoke. Are you going to school?
- S
February is really cold in Kansas. I can’t believe we met more than a year ago. I remember it was either November or beginning of December, not last year but the year before. Something happened to us (me and my brother) right after we met you, which is how I know. We celebrated that new year in prison. Funny story.
But it’s February now. God it’s cold. How do you feel about the cold? You probably like it better than the fires, with how you grew up, all that talk of hellfire.
Can I tell you something? The Devil is cold. That’s why I don’t like winter. I know him better than you do, Magda, I’ll tell you that right now. You don’t know the Devil at all. You’re clean.
- S
Sometimes I hear crickets outside. Isn’t that crazy? Did I ever tell you where I live? I live in an underground concrete bunker. You can’t hear the outside, but I hear crickets. Where do they come from? These crickets that chirp like birds, like winged beasts, like bats out of hell, like wind chimes. Do you hear them? Do you hear the same thing I hear? It’s so loud all the time, always crickets shining in everlasting grace I want it to be quiet so bad
Hi Magda,
I was looking at the news alerts today. They officially closed a case from two years ago — a girl, no ID, no family. A Jane Doe. She was in a bathroom stall, shot dead. When they first found her the bus driver had already gone, and he had an alibi because he hadn’t gone to the bathroom so he was always in view of the passengers and the shop owner. They caught up with him a day later in California and asked him if he’d noticed the missing girl and he’d said someone else bought her ticket for her, a big guy with long hair. He figured she’d decided to stay at the stop and she missed the second and third calls so he’d driven off.
I think I already knew you were dead. I think I’ve known for a while. I hope it’s warm, wherever you are.
- Sam