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to the Bride.

all you were back then was a small kid trying to live in the big world. or a young kid trying to be a big kid. thinking of trying out that yellow suit. ah, now what am i saying. this is like a letter from your father, though i’m just your foster parent. oh, no, no, no. i’m not even related to you.

and your face makes my heart dribble and thump in a way she- your supposed foster mother- made me feel ages ago, when she was alive. heck, why am i considering you as a child of mine? this ain’t kid’s play. heck, were’ old now. mature. those were the things of the past. i’m now living in the future. though seems like you and your fuc–… OK. no cursing.

though seems like you and your actions are bringing me down towards hell. hmm.

people will recognize your beauty. i find you beautiful today. tonight. maybe tomorrow as well. but, see, kid, you’re now beautiful… just like everyone else. you’re not attractive anymore. unless something is proven, you’ll reclaim my attention. but not now. not sooner. your beauty can hook up someone, but it will fail me. it is sad. you’ll know how sad i have become because of this. a painful vanity.

go now. marry that boy.

the next day, i’ll have my redemption. you’ll die on the Mexican border. pray for your marriage. and i’ll pray for your funeral.

bidding my farewell,
Bill.

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