Thursday, September 16

Why won't you leave me alone?

September 16, 2080

Any relief I might have felt at his departure is gone now, replaced by dread in the form of a big white envelope sitting on my kitchen table addressed to “David Severn.” Him. Why would he have someone send one letter to me? He must still get hundreds of fan letters every day. I feel him, now, standing right behind my shoulder. I want to push him away even though he isn’t really here. I should throw that letter away and… and move. Move somewhere wherehe can’t find me anymore. I couldn’t take his drinking then and I can’t…

I can’t let him get to me again. I can’t hold him up. With those arms, shouldn’t he be able to hold himself up? I’ll give him a few days, then I’ll just throw it away. If he comes for it, he can have it, but I’m going to tell him never to come near me again. Even he should be able to get that through his thick head.