Dearest Juliet,
Gaffer has a rather fine collection of whiskey, Juliet. Do me a favour, and nick a bottle or two, aye? Charge it on me.
And sit down, right now. Went to a lot of trouble writing this, be a waste if you ball it up and throw it. I don't write much, never been a writer myself.
So, yeah. Went up and did it. No beating round the bush. One bullet in, one out. Clean through. Never felt more alive. Never felt more happy.
Wouldn't be my love if you expected me to apologize, would you? Nah. Know you too well. You are sitting on your bed, doors closed, rope hanging from the chandelier.
Don't.
I'm a bloody hypocrite, and damned if I care. Pull off the rope, darling.
Give me this one thing. Go buy those damned whiskey. Drink up. Sob into Gaffer's shirt. Drink up. Find a well built lass and treat him good for a night. Drink up.
This ain't my Juliet, who's decided to follow me. Fuck it, my Juliet has damned never been a follower.
And would you not give a man his privacy? I wanna explore the beauties of Heaven before I'm bogged down by you again, damn it all. Give me a couple decades, yeah? Be a good sport.
Gaffer's gonna be a good lad, I trust him. Will keep you fed and sheltered. Your children will be beautiful, darling. Raise them as I would, yeah?
I don't fucking know what to write, I've rambled enough. Put the paper down. Pull of the rope. Make a life.
From the other side,
Jerry.