Dear Wigleaf,

Where are you? I miss you. Come back.

I imagine you shopping at the markets wherever you are, someplace foreign and exotic. Are you writing me a postcard, too? Are you buying me a durian, then regretting it? Take pictures.

Soak this postcard in water and get the stamp. I licked it.

Love,

Matt






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Read MS's story, "No Self Felt Hurt by the Shadow Acts."

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