- The Postcard -

Jack paced restlessly around the small room. Had anyone been standing in the doorway, looking in on the room, they might have compared Jack Twist to a caged lion, prowling back and forth and muttering to himself, occasionally letting out a growl of anger. Unlike with a lion, though, a person in the doorway might have heard what Jack was muttering: "Four years…four fuckin' years…been thinkin' bout this all that time, thinkin' what I'd say to him…can't think of a goddamn word to say now, a course…" A person in the doorway may have been confused by these words but, as is true in most cases of muttering, the muttered words are not meant for others' ears. Such was true in the case of Jack Twist's mutters.

Jack looked angrily over at the small desk, upon which sat a postcard. Had the person in the doorway walked to the desk, they would have seen that the postcard was addressed to a "Mr. Ennis Del Mar" of Riverton, Wyoming. The message side of the postcard, though, was blank. The cause of Jack's muttering.

"'Dear Ennis'," Jack exclaimed suddenly, then threw his hands up into the air. "Sounds fuckin' stupid. 'Hey Ennis, it's been a long time'… That ain't no good neither. 'Cowboy'…shit no. 'Bud'… 'Friend'…" Jack's eyes lit up, and he hurried over to the desk, grabbing the pen he'd used to address the postcard, and quickly scrawled out "Friend" lest he forget the perfect greeting. Grinning, he leaned back to admire his work, but the smile slid slowly from his face. There was still space on the card.

Shit.

He returned to his pacing.

"Lemme think, lemme think… 'Been a while, thought I'd drop you a line'…ah, no good, no good, somethin' differ'nt… 'How's it goin'?' …Makes it sound like I don't really care… Come on, Twist, think, think…gotta be somethin' to say… 'Shoulda wrote this letter a long time ago'… Nah, don't sound quite right…but close…almost there… 'This letter is long over due'… That's it!" He ran back to the desk and scribbled this next line. It still wasn't enough.

"Gotta tell him I'll be around… 'Be near Riverton 'round the 24th'… Not good 'nough… Le'see… 'Gonna be around your place near the 24th'…I don' even know where he fuckin' lives! How do I know I'll be near his place? Stupid—!" He hit himself on the side of the head, shoved his hands into his pocket, and resumed pacing. " '24th I'll be around Riverton'…already fuckin' tried that, didn't work then, don't work now… 'Driving through'… No. 'Coming through'… Yeah, 'Coming through on the 24th'. Yeah, sounds good, yeah!" He added this line. The white space did not seem to want to disappear.

"Alright, Jack…just one more line, one more little line… Want him to write back, I guess… 'Drop me a line'…sure, that's fine, but it needs somethin' more… Well, I gotta find out where he lives and 'Tell me where you live' ain't gonna work, gotta be nicer'n that… 'Drop me a line…with your address'? No, no, no… 'Drop me a line…' I don' know." He shook his head helplessly, pursing his lips. He lifted his hand to bite one of his fingers thoughtfully, then snatched his hat up from its place on the desk and shoved it down on his head. "…Help me think… 'Drop me a line…', 'Drop me a line…', 'Drop me a line…' Come on, Twist, you're smarter'n this. It's a stupid fuckin' postcard…prob'ly won't even get to him anyway…" He stopped, the thought occurring to him for the first time. "Maybe I should send two, case one don't reach him…but what if they both get there? Then I'll look right stupid… I'll send one, give it a month, send another one if I haven't heard from him by then. That's what I'll do." He nodded, greatly satisfied with this plan…until he remembered that he had to finish this one postcard first. "'Drop me a line…say if you're there'? It'll have to fuckin' do…can't think no more…" He quickly wrote the final line onto the postcard, and slowly, carefully, wrote his own name. That done, he checked the lines to make sure they were perfect…

'Friend this letter is long over due. Coming through on the 24th Drop me a line say if your there Jack'

As far as he could tell, it was perfect, and he found himself grinning again. Four fuckin' years…and now, if things all went well, he'd be seeing Ennis again…

But first, he had to mail the postcard.

:>