That night, after they'd made their plans, Ward sat by the window in their rented room, a pen in hand. He wrote to Lisa whenever he could, his words a fragile lifeline to the normalcy he'd left behind.
Dear Lisa,
I hope this letter finds you well. I'm sorry I couldn't stay, but you know why I had to go. Garcia and I are in another small town, and the darkness here feels suffocating. It reminds me of what happened back home, but I try not to dwell on that too much. I miss our talks—your advice always helped me see things clearly. Please write back when you can. Knowing you're still out there keeps me grounded.
Yours in faith, John
He folded the letter carefully and slipped it into an envelope, resolving to mail it the next day.
