Lemon Drops
Do you suppose if I wrote a letter addressed outside of the city, it would arrive to whom I address it?
((...)) No, I suppose not. It would never arrive... that awful Grady would swipe it up in an instant and read the whole thing. Terrible of them all, keeping us from our friends back home, don't you think? And there's no knowing if we will return home. All who have? I believe they were returned to us. We have no proof that being droned permanently brings us back home. Our bodies remain in the city. I did not return home, and I parted from the city a week.
Do you suppose they notice? Our friends and allies? In our absence, do they look for us and question where we are? Or are we returned as though we never left? Perhaps.... perhaps the latter would mean we are only here in mind and not body.
No less; time moves on for us, and the city has predicted us to be here for tens years or more. I do not recall seeing the people I have recently met there.... perhaps those that witnessed the future will forever remain here, and those that did not? They will be returned. I find comfort only in that last thought. To live here forever, sans wind and rain, lacking those we love dearest, it can be no life.
I suppose I shall bare it...
((...)) I think I will still try to send her that letter. I know she would appreciate it, even if it never arrives.
((Back dated to yesterday; Jun 13.))
((...)) No, I suppose not. It would never arrive... that awful Grady would swipe it up in an instant and read the whole thing. Terrible of them all, keeping us from our friends back home, don't you think? And there's no knowing if we will return home. All who have? I believe they were returned to us. We have no proof that being droned permanently brings us back home. Our bodies remain in the city. I did not return home, and I parted from the city a week.
Do you suppose they notice? Our friends and allies? In our absence, do they look for us and question where we are? Or are we returned as though we never left? Perhaps.... perhaps the latter would mean we are only here in mind and not body.
No less; time moves on for us, and the city has predicted us to be here for tens years or more. I do not recall seeing the people I have recently met there.... perhaps those that witnessed the future will forever remain here, and those that did not? They will be returned. I find comfort only in that last thought. To live here forever, sans wind and rain, lacking those we love dearest, it can be no life.
I suppose I shall bare it...
((...)) I think I will still try to send her that letter. I know she would appreciate it, even if it never arrives.
((Back dated to yesterday; Jun 13.))