Justin sat at his desk and stared at the letter in his hands. It was was from Rachel. No, Rachel was not his girlfriend, she was someone who had been writing letters to him for over a year and a half. He'd never seen her, met her, or talked to her, and he certainly had no idea how she'd gotten his home address. None of that mattered a few months after she'd started writing. The girl obviously thought the address was bogus, or hadn't even thought he'd get the letters, and she talked and talked. She told him about her dates, how she couldn't wait until that summer when she'd go off to college, and she'd even told him about the first frat party she'd snuck into. She spoke to him like a friend, and it made him feel good knowing someone out there didn't feel obligated to write to him as if he were God Almighty. For those reasons, he was having a hard time digesting the bitter words that flowed from the paper...

<>Justin<>

     Well, here it is, almost Spring Break time, and I have nowhere to go. Sounds great, huh? I'm sure you're going off to the Bahamas or somewhere bright and sunny like that. (Here, Justin noticed a few dried tearmarks on the ink.)Oh yeah, you should go have a nice time. While you're there, I'll be at my boyfriend's funeral. Yeah, that's right. He died this morning on the way to school. It was his fault cuz he was speeding on the wet roads, ya know, but... Jesus. I thought we were gonna get married someday. I really wanted to marry him. I told you about him a while ago. Chris Michael. And I'd be Mrs. Rachel Michael... yeah. Not now. I hate it! Everything was going so great, and now all that just went straight to Hell in a handbasket this morning. All my hopes for a perfect future (I know, i sound melodramatic, but...)are gone with Chris. God, I don't know how I'll get through this. I'm going to stop writing for a while... maybe indefinitely. What am I saying? Even if you have gotten these letters, I doubt you care much. I'm sorry, that was harsh... but I hope you do care. I hope... funny, I still have some hope left.

<>Rachel<>

     A feeling of guilt washed over him when he finished his letter. He'd read her letters for a year and a half, and he would only now respond because a loved one had died. He felt shallow, like he was doing it 'out of the kindness of his heart'. But he knew he wasn't being shallow. He was being sincere. He felt like he knew this girl, and now that she was in pain, he felt horrible. But what could he do? He had no reason to leave Orlando to visit her, to tell her that he had gotten her letters, to tell her how sorry he was for her loss. As he skimmed over the letter again, opportunity presented itself... in the form of a funeral. Ok, now he felt cheap and shallow. Again, what could he do? Nothing, unless he was to go to Pasadena for a funeral. He decided then and there that he would find Rachel Wallace.

Mystery's Prose

Chapter 2

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