Las Vegas International, slot machines hollering at us from between the gates. Manchester, New Hampshire. The car-rental guard inspected my driver’s license for half a minute. He had not seen a California license before. To Mandy’s parents house. Her mother Mudd is here, tired, alternating between crying and relating how kind her relatives have been.
Emerson Hospital. Mandy’s father Nurn is here. There is a white band of skin where his wedding ring was. He is tired but coherent and emotionally stable. They removed some of the cancer but by definition it could not all be removed. An oncologist hasn’t seen him yet.
[Section redacted.]
To stay alive, I’ve been writing. I can’t tell if the play’s any good, but at the very least, regardless of what happens with the play or anything else, I can say: I meant it.
Keep writing
Hang on. The fog will lift, really it will. Please give Mandy a hug from Carole and I, and keep one for yourself. We miss you guys a lot.
If you die I will kill you. Seriously dude.
It runs in the family. Sorry @ the genes I gave you. I remember a scene from Chindler’s List…"if you kill yourself, you wont find out what happens"…
Keep writing. There is something inside you bursting to get out. It compels you. It’s lonely for us. No one understands. I understand.