Creative Writing · Epistolary Writing · Fiction · Letters

From Max to Juliet – 13 January 2017


I read your letter.

I have to say, an apology is a refreshing change coming from you. However, it is too late. I know you didn’t ask but before you do let me make myself abundantly clear: whatever friendship existed between us can never be again.

You say you are sorry for the way you left things but do you even remember? I recall you having quite the gift of sweeping flimsy facts under threadbare rugs.

Well, I never had that gift. I still remember every stinging word you said to me, every insult on my character, every threat on my person-hood.

If I recall correctly, and I do believe I do, you told me in no uncertain terms where to get off.

So I got off. I’m off the train, Juliet. It’s been years and now you want … what? What is it that you want?

I just don’t know what it is that you want. Absolution? Forgiveness? I don’t think I can do either, to be frank.

Please do not send me any more letters. Mother couldn’t bare it.



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