To Katie, forever ago.

It pains me to say that I’m writing this on the back of a receipt (and I’m sure, Katie, you’re wondering what I bought to receive that receipt. If you must know, a water bottle and a bag of pretzels, which were stale but enough sustenance to get me to the airport). Oh, Katie, I’ll stop somewhere waiting for you in time, but for now it’s go go go, and at this point in my life everything’s simply so fast and I cannot stop. 

This will be brief, Katie, since the receipt is so short, yet I must tell you that Austria was beautiful and I enjoyed every minute of my stay--so much so that I filled the rest of my journal (leatherbound, peanut-shell paper) with ideas for my next novel, and I promise that when I return to Colorado I’ll be rich enough for the both of us. Just give me time. 

But let me write you a description of the man sitting next to me on this plane. He’s asleep now, so I think it’s safe enough to write about him without mortally disturbing him. He’s wearing a long trench coat even though this plane is stuffy and unreasonably warm, and there’s a fine layer of dried orange juice on his upper lip, which is unshaven. He looks rather crude (as you would assume that I look now with all my travels). 

I miss you, Katie. I’ve no idea when all of this will end, or when this letter of love will reach you, but think of it, when it is received, as my own voice saying these words to you. I love you. 

I never thought that life would lead me to Taiwan, of all places. Oh, Katie, I miss you very dearly and I wish you were here with me. Taiwan isn’t anything as beautiful as Austria, at least in my eyes, but if I could live here forever with you at my side I’d sit content. 

I’ve been here for two months now and Men and Sweeties is nearly complete. I’m to fly to London in three weeks to meet with an editor who says that he’s very interested in meeting me and reading my works. I am hopeful that something good will come out of it. Of course, I can’t dream of the riches of, say, J.K. Rowling, yet I can still dream. And if I ever do become rich, you can be sure that I’ll come home to Colorado straight away and reunite with you. 

In your last letter to me you said that you liked when I described things, so I’ll tell you a story this time about an odd street corner I’ve passed only twice since my stay in Taiwan. At first, it was quite a beautiful street corner--it was an odd little bus stop painted in bright colors and decorated like a Chinese temple. Around it were pots full of bright flowers. It seemed like a nice place to sit and rest (and of course, Katie, I did. You know me too well). And in that shadowed sitting-area I could smell the wonderful food-smells wafting out of the restaurant to the left of me and I looked over the whole place--a fence to my right and the restaurant to the left, and a drab little car-repair place behind me, and down the little side street there was a row of pastel apartments. Quite a lovely spot, I suppose. Oh, Katie, you would have loved to sit there with me in that aromatic shade. 

But then, Katie, the second time I returned to this place, expecting a place to rest, it was completely different. The decorations were all gone, leaving only exposed wood and concrete--not a place I’d like to sit, indeed. No more flowers. Of course, this was nearly a month later. Like all things in life, I cannot expect them to be the same when I return. But this was such a shocker. 

Yet I still sat in the shade of the bus stop, except it was not so lovely this time. The restaurant, when I looked to my left, was part-burnt and there were no delicious smells coming from it. But worst of all were the apartments. For the most part, they were the same, except for the one that was painted yellow--now it was all stripped of paint (and what appeared to be the first layer of plaster). Such a depressing sight. I’ll never return to that once-lovely place again. 

Oh, but enough of that. Let me tell you about something wonderful. Let me tell you about my novel, Men and Sweeties. I think I’ll call it a romantic satire, as the character Madison Love is highly opinionated about all sorts of political things (much like yourself, Katie). But what I have just recently added is a portion about Madison’s boyfriend (who I’d imagine, in your eyes, is much like myself) that enticed the editor in London very much. I won’t reveal anything to you that would spoil the story more than I already have, but I know that you’ll be very pleased. 

Katie, I miss you so much. It won’t be much longer. I can only assume another month or so. By that time, I’ll have made enough money so that we can buy a lovely home in Colorado, or Austria, or wherever you want to live in this whole wide world, and so that we can have the most spectacular wedding. With love. 

Oh, Katie, I am just so sorry that I am not holding you in my arms right at this moment. I promised you a month or so, yet it’s turned into a whole seven months even though I’ve petitioned my brutish editor thousands of times for a break to go and see you. Katie, please have hope. Someday, we will be reunited and everything will be just as it’s supposed to be. 

It’s unfortunate that Men and Sweeties hasn’t made much money but I am not going to stop persevering in writing a novel that makes me rich and prosperous. While staying in my hotel (provided by Henry Drace, my editor, if you wanted to know) I devised a premise for a novel which I will call Thief in my Garden, a mystery novel, quite unlike me but for which I have all the hope in the world. 

I am writing to you on some of Henry Drace’s personal stationery which I borrowed from his office. He believes in me wholeheartedly and did not object when I asked if I could write down some of my burning ideas. I believe that he wants me to succeed as much as I do. 

Katie, I have met so many interesting people in London. They all claim to be very important people and included me in conversations that were so very intriguing--I am absolutely astounded that they thought I was capable of intelligent speech (which you would know quite well, Katie), but I took it in stride and I must have surprised them all since I’m to have afternoon tea in a few days, which may become a habit for me after all. 

I do miss you, as much as it may seem that I am wrapped up in high-society life in London. Oh, this letter must be brief. I’ve got a meeting with Henry Drace and the mailman is arriving in just a few minutes. I’ll see you as soon as I can. 

I cannot believe that I’ve caught a break. The money is pouring in, dear Katie! Soon, we’ll be able to go anywhere that you could ever dream of. I’ll return to Colorado as soon as possible--that could be days to months, darling. Don’t get too anxious. 

The people that I’ve met here in London, Katie! So many beautiful women, but none as beautiful as you. All with great amounts of money, but none of that matters because in my eyes there is only one woman, and it’s you! Things are really turning around now. Soon, we’ll be living the lives we’d promised ourselves that we would have as children--I as a prosperous novelist, and you as a stunning actress. Hollywood will meet a star soon enough. 

I’ve got some business shortly that I must attend to and I fear I’ll never get back to finishing this letter if I don’t finish it now. Since I’ve got such a busy schedule perhaps we should text. It’s not so romantic as writing but I cannot help it. 

Best wishes. 

Katie, I know that texting isn’t so romantic and we’re both not very good at it. So here I am with another letter. Writing this much now is beginning to cramp up my hands, so this will be brief. 

I’ve bought a house in London. I know that it isn’t Colorado but I’m wondering if you’d like to come and meet me here? You could borrow some money from me and come and visit. I fear I will not be returning to Colorado any time soon since my life is really in London now. The only way to see you again is if you come here to me. 

Sincerely yours. 

It seems so long since we’ve spoken and I’ve wondered if you’ve lost faith in me. I assure you that I’m the same person, and you are the same Katie, yes? I understand that life throws many obstacles in our paths and it is unfortunate that you aren’t able to meet me in London. I don’t think I’ll be sending any more letters, Katie, since life is simply too busy. 

I miss you. I hope someday we will meet. 

Humbly yours.