Dear Frances,

I saw your name in a newspaper a few weeks ago, and well it made me proud. I don't know why, we haven't even spoken in years. Nor met with those stiff but not altogether unpleasant hellos people greet each other with in the street. I find it very strange that I felt it was absolutely necessary to write a letter to you, it's not as if our relationship would fall apart if I did not put pen to paper, (that has already happened so long ago) but I thought the idea of it was nice. Coming home to find, splayed on the table with bills and post cards, and thosewonderful thick yellow envelopes, a letter from an old friend. Trying to remember the face of someone lost so long ago (not to say that our depature was a loss to you, I do not mean to imply such), and after grappling with a slurry of images of all of those people we know in a lifetime, all of the faces we see. Well. I'm glad to know that you have become an important enough person, that I can flip through a rather thick paper and find your name inside, neither in the obituaries or legal announcements. If only we could all be so lucky. I'm glad to have know you Frances, I hope that you can say the same

                                                                                               With Love,



The End

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