Nighthawks

Dear Samantha,

I know it has been a long time since my last letter and for that I apologize. I have been in solitary confinement all week and as you well know subsequently had my visiting hours and phone calls revoked. Do not concern yourself over this; it was a trivial matter and a necessary sacrifice to retain my status among the inmates. Needless to say the recipient of which is still recovering from a collapsed lung. Now I know we agreed no more violence and my one regret is that it will have serious repercussions in regards to my parole chances. However you must understand that there was a large bounty on my head and if I hadn’t had taken matters into my own hands I would certainly have been dead within in a week. Not that I need tell you this. I recall one of our previous telephone conversations where you informed me of how in your first week you stabbed an inmate in the leg with a pencil, in order to avoid a group beating from the overseeing gang.

Besides the obvious claustrophobia and lack of light in here, I have to say it has had some benefits. For one thing it has given me time to pen this letter to you, allowing me to adequately describe everything I need to say without time constraints, eager listening guards and distracting inmates. Also it has been a welcome respite from the idiocracy and high levels of testosterone that is my daily hell. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking whilst in isolation because to be honest there isn’t a lot else to do, and time and time again my thoughts keep returning to our first ever job. Do you remember Sam? The diner in the village? It seems like such a long time ago and so much has happened since then. We were so young and invincible on that day. I never told you then but that was the first time I properly felt connected to you. Before the others got involved. We should have never of branched out. That was a mistake and one I take a considerable amount of blame for. We were and still are the perfect duo and I want you to make me a promise, that the next time we are reunited we do things alone and our way. No unnecessary complications and no chance of flaking crewmembers.

The wardens inform me that flared jeans are the new craze. I dread to think what other new fangled fashion faux pars are currently out there in the real world. I long for the clothes of our youth. The suits, the hats, the skirts and the pearl necklaces. It was all so suave and cool. I will always remember the way we were dressed that evening. How could I forget? My jaw nearly dropped open when you walked into that diner, wearing that unforgettable red dress. I still retain that if you hadn’t of glared at my gormless expression I would have bundled up the plan, due to my eyes falling out of my head. Having said that I definitely gave you a run for your money in my flashy suit and fedora. Ah what a night that was. We should have stuck to diners my dear. It was easy money. In and out. No messiness or unnecessary delays. I know the civilian casualty that occurred shook you up a bit but as I have said time and time again, it wasn’t your fault. The guy was trying to be a hero and he had to be stopped. Anyway look at me rambling about the old days like some care home grandpa.

More importantly how are you? Tell me everything that’s happening with you? I know it may not seem awfully exciting to you but believe me your letters are my saving grace. I hope things aren’t too bad where you are and all I can say to comfort you is hold on. I know it seems like a far way off but eventually we will be together my love.

You’re betrothed,

Richard xxxx

© [Daniel Ashby] and [Ashby Tales], [2014]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to [Daniel Ashby] and [Ashby Tales] with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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