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Thief.

I sincerely wish you to receive this letter, if only for the thread by which our memories survive. Left to its own devices, our legacy has divided upon itself countless times, reduced to fragments of its original form and splendor. Perhaps this is a point which only I care to acknowledge, so please, do not believe it is my intention to hold you accountable with the words written here. I have heard the news, and though it was never meant for me to hear, I wish you nothing but the best. Your mother was always very proud of you, and I have taken it upon myself to no longer hold this against her. It was wrong for me to do in the first place.

Interesting, is it not, the way in which we took our leave from the other? Even now, seven years later, I am still resorting to a written letter to inform you of my frustrations, my questions, and random thoughts. I suppose I will wait, as always, for the response to arrive...though it likely never will. I am spiteful, yes, but not ingenuous, the fact that you left me your affection with just three hours remaining will never fail to fascinate me, to remind me anything sincere is worthy and always possible. I left that morning in a cattle car, unaware of where I was going, or truly why, but I cannot say I was not loved, or now, thankful.

Most people would not absorb the impact of such a lifestyle change the way I did, which is not to say you never made sacrifices. But the change, when recounted, is devastating for all it failed to yield in sincerity, purpose, and direction. Direction is pivotal to love, it is what distinguishes between promise and tolerance between two people and how it continuously builds upon its own design. Texas was simply too far, too fast, a distance too tangible to reinvent for our own intentions.

I am not at a loss for words, Thief, when it comes to your memory. Though I could not tell, our road was winding long before we initially parted, and I mistakenly sent you to fend for yourself. The romance is telling, defining both the high and low points of our relations, and I likely give myself more credit than I deserve. After all, the outcome never changes no matter how the story is told, or who tells it. I have heard the news Thief, and I must not withhold my congratulations for your happiness. But I cannot overlook asking you why the winding road which led to you such happiness has been dismissed?

-Tony