horseshoe crabs

dear z, 

the past 3 nights i've ridden this little old bicycle down to the long island sound on this island to see the horseshoe crabs when they scuttle up to the beach in the middle of the night. every time, i've been on the phone with juniper. yes, dear z, it seems that for now we've worked everything out, and we've decided to give it the ol' college try & i call her every morning to wake her up & again at night when i've drunk entirely too much and begin to love people much much more than i should.

i'm going to mail juniper the pants i made in those 3 weeks when she wouldn't talk to me, and she tells me that she hopes that one day she'll learn everything that happened in those days, and i'm sure i'll tell her. 

i didn't mean for this letter to be so short, i'm just so glad to announce that i am truly tired of writing right now, as i've just written so many in so short a time, and no others like the ones to you. 

i will surely write you again later, 

all my love, 

lola