Aurelio,
You asked how my life has been, but I couldn't say by phone. When I text, I’m dishonest. I’ll say I’m doing okay when I’ve never been worse, struggling when things couldn’t be better. When I talk, too, I won’t talk about myself. People only care so much, I’ve found. If you only talk about yourself for long enough, everyone is going to leave. So I’m always checking in, asking how this or that, but never risking the limelight. I realize now this is the one exception. Even if the post office misplaced these letters and they were lost forever, the words are out. Once a month, I get to talk about myself.
Recently, I made some friends. In a class of two hundred, I became the ringleader of a nasty conspiracy. Class started on that first day, and the professor asked us to meet our neighbors. Big mistake. Enter Gio, a loose-lipped Latino who reminds me of a certain someone that couldn’t keep his mouth shut back in high school. The lecture started, but we were still talking. Dr. Stockton…
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