Dear Ryan,

Hello! How are you? I’m glad to finally be writing you. I hope this letter finds you in good health and good spirits. Haha, isn’t hope a funny thing? Though I can know with my entire rational being that you are certainly miserable and, by all legal definitions of the word, deceased, I still have these strange, vibrant visions of you laughing and lifting heavy objects above your head, surrounded by a inexplicably racially-diverse group of smiling 19-26 year olds. Oh wait, I confused the memory of you with the Coca-cola commercial I was just watching. Anways since we’re already on the subject of you and how you’ve been, my mouth sure is dry and I could really use a refreshing pick-me-up. Ugh, but instead of enjoying a delicious coke, I’m writing this stupid fucking letter to somebody who could very well be dead for all I know. I mean seriously, what am I doing with my life? I know for a god damn fact that  sweet, effervescent happiness awaits me, beads of condensation dripping off the icy cold bottle, and HERE I AM! writing to a fucking phantom, a ghost of a shell of a husk of a wretch of a man.

Well enough about you, I’m sure you’re eager to hear about the amazing life I’ve been leading since you died. Olympia is the same as you remember, a shining pinnacle and testament to mankind’s benevolence, ingenuity, and scientific achievements. I believe we’ve finally mastered ‘the wheel’; we were able to reverse-engineer the technology from half of a skateboard that somebody left lodged in The Reef’s toilet. Personally, I spend most of my days strolling along the boulevard, REDACTED The friend group is a black hole of incest, degeneracy, and repulsion, just as you left it. To be honest though, the rate at which we have been retrograding into fiendish vermin bent on cannibalizing the emotional well-being of others has increased exponentially since you’ve left. It really has gotten to the point where it’s not okay for everyone to be in the same room at once. My personal take on it is that our friends would benefit from anesthetizing their souls with dangerous narcotics for a good few months, but they insist on clinging to their emotional attachments.

Megan and I are well. REDACTED I may as well tell you here that if I were to get married, I would be honored if you would be my best man.

Sincerely,

Kekoa Hallett