My dearest Zoey,

Won’t you tell me the meaning of this distance? The meaning of this silence?

How could you tell me? I’m the deserter. The coward, the sheep, the phony.

And still, my heart sings like a wind chime in the ocean breeze when I think of the day when we’ll see each other again. It should be a Sunday, so you can be mine the whole day with no one to bother us.

What will I ask you? Millions of questions invade my mind. Some beg for an answer, others are there j...