Sunday March 18th 2007, 2:11 pm
Filed under: All Letters,Love Letters

Dear phone call,

I was in my studio tonight, working diligently on a new painting when my cell phone began to vibrate. To my surprise, the caller ID displayed a beautifully frightening phone number – your phone number. Along with your number, a photo of you flashed on the LCD screen. It was a photo I took of you on the train in San Jose from the first weekend we met. You’ll have to forgive me for not answering the telephone, however my hands were too busy painting to fiddle with picking it up. I am working on an oil painting from the picture of you and Konane, drunk together, lying in your bed. It is strange and coincidental that you would call at the exact moment I was working on painting your facial features. I wonder if there was some frequency or interdimensional connection between the painting and your calling? Why did you call me tonight, Mindy? What clicked inside your head that, after three weeks, you felt the urge to connect with me? A part of me wants to believe that you missed me and truly wanted to converse about the recent events in our lives; however, a conflicting part of me wants to believe that you had some pressing issue that needed to be settled, like our divorce, or something concerning the lease agreement. Possibly you got laid yesterday, and so today you could secretly mock me with your inquisitive “how are you” questions, knowing full well that your secret love encounters are more impressive than any response I could give you. To tell you the truth, my hands weren’t too busy to answer the telephone. I lacked the courage to speak to you. I pussied out and turned the phone off. I’m a chicken. You still hold a potentially dangerous power over me, which haunts me every moment I get the chance to decipher the energy behind my daily actions. Tonight, I want to call you my beautiful wife, in person, however this desire will fall short from realization. Instead, I think I’ll go to sleep.

-Goodnight love.

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