A Brief Correspondence

He had begun a correspondence with himself. With a red pen he would be Petons, a character he had created, and with a blue pen he would pretend to be himself. He had purchased a number of notebooks inside of which he intended to document what he anticipated would become a lengthy correspondence. And, at first, it seemed like it really would turn out to be. Petons initiated the correspondence, writing gushingly about his nascent character, about new words he was learning and faces he was told he had always known (he knew, however, that he had not). He talked about what it was like where he was and why people ought not put others there unless they intended to look after them. He wrote of the many characters he had met who had been abandoned there, and who, despite their best efforts, would likely simply fade away. Petons wrote on and on and on, practically overflowing with language.

Reading over Petons’s words, his creator grew uncomfortable. What had he done? Panicked, he wrote a single word response in blue letters: SORRY. This concluded their brief correspondence.