Letter 14
Hi Bianca,
Okay, I’m sane again. I think. I’m done crying. My lachrymal glands have dried up and blown away. I’ll never be able to cry again. And good riddance. Who needs it, anyway?
The good news is, we’re on our way home. And I’m not dead. (Obviously!) But someone else is.
Damn, there was that one tear left, hiding in there waiting to spring on me. But it’s gone now, I’m sure of it.
I’m not being so straightforward and professional, am I? ’Scuse me, let me resume my narrative where it’ll make more sense.
Well, I ate that special snack the trait… sorry, Warren brought me. Oh, it was special, all right. It was the stuff that made Mike so sick a few weeks ago. Mike swears he doesn’t know how Warren got his hands on it, swears he had nothing to do with it. I’m positive the tw
