The boat pulls in.
Dear Trevor,
I know you need me, but I am beyond apologies.
I write this leter at the Laughing Gull. Ezra sits next to me, tapping his fingers on the table. Tap tap tap.
The boat pulls in. The woman captain is dressed in her best blood. “Why is she like that?” I think to myself. Or maybe I say it out loud, because Ezra answers.
“Who knows what g—got her to that point. A bill—billion little things. That’s like me asking you wh—why you look the way you do.”
“Why do I what? Look like this? This is who I am. Or who I’ve become. I’ve looked better.”
“Ah. And this is the best she’s l—looked so far. Like she’s dressed for a wedding. Don’t you think she looks lovely in h—her wedding clothes?
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but she looks just rough enough to get me where I need to go.”
“Then come.”
“I’m coming.” My heart pounds as I say the words. “I’ve just got to mail a letter.”
“Even so, come quickly,” says Ezra.
I will finish this line, stuff this note in an envelope and hand it to Sung-Hee. I’ve gotta run, Trevor.
Your dad,
Hugh
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