Here I sit in Detroit awaiting my plane and I cannot help but think of you. Do you remember when we were here? We sat next to the windows and watched the airport men brush snow from the wings of the planes. We were so young and foolish, thinking we might run away from the world! I cannot help but think I succeeded at that, in the end, because you were my world and I ran away from you. I am sorry, Victoria, for burning your Cosmo collection, for tossing your favorite boa into the river, for breaking your heart, for everything. I don’t know where you are today, what new flights you have caught, but I hope you happy. Now I must go. I have a bank convention in Memphis. I am not the man I used to be.
Your chubby wubby,