Author's note - short chapter this time around. I really tried to get a proper chapter done but at this point it seemed fairer to at least post something for you. I don't know when the next chapter will be posted; I've had some problems with depression in the past and things have gotten quite bad the past few weeks. As much as I've enjoyed this story and the reviews you've been kind enough to leave, right now I need to take a break. I might be back in a few days but there's a decent chance it'll be longer than that-I really can't say.
Dear Charles,
We both resisted the GED idea. I think we were both afraid not to pass, so now that we both have and haven't, it's a strange sensation. Between the two of us, we earned an entire diploma. We only lost pieces of one.
It's pretty good, right?
I don't think you were disappointed in us.
I don't know if these letters are for you or as a journal. I haven't showed any to you and I don't know if I will. Maybe I mean them for me, if something happens. If we lose more decades.
These days happen as 'we'. We do everything together. We study together, outside mostly, with a reliable consistency of snacks. Today, snacks are like 1960s snacks, with extras. Chips with salt and vinegar. Popcorn with caramel. Coke in metal cans. Ice cream from Vermont hippies. (Some things haven't changed!)
We go into town together sometimes, when we go into town, to the library or on an errand. The town has changed, too. It's bigger. There are still more white people than anyone else, but people of other races are uncommon instead of outright problematic. Some things are so much better than they were 45 years ago.
We're just us, and it's been great, but I don't know how to tell you this. There's a distance between us and you now. Between us and Hank, us and Alex. That distance is full of fear. It's nobody's fault, but how do we know it's real this time?
I think what I mean here is to remind you that we—no, I can only speak for myself here. I still love you. Please don't give up on me before I figure out how to brave. I'm the same person I was then. I promise.
Love from,
1964