Dear Sylphea, I believe this is how you start letters— handwritten ones. My phone and all that crap has been gone for at least 6 weeks as everyone else’s. Would it seem plausible if I told you that I had never written a note and sent it before? Since the technological advancement outbreak and the crazy shit burned our bridges, I’ve been thinking about you. I can only assume your district of office has charged into your houses too to rip away every bit of technology or equipment of such. They say it’s dangerous, not sustainable or even remotely beneficial for the average person to consume daily. That’s just what I heard on TV a couple weeks back.

Before they took all the electricity away, the A.I, the phones and TVs, all that bullshit, the news was fucking crazy. I wondered if you had seen it, but some guy (one I went to highschool with, don’t know if you remember Brian) shot himself infront of his kids and had tried to shoot his wife. Damn lunatic. The spokesman said it was because of the A.I, apparently that stuff was bugging real bad and led the way through the crimes and suicide missions; that’s why they ripped it away. Another man hung himself, people killing people left and right, it’s batshit crazy.

I’d say I’m a grown ass man, but I’m scared. I’m petrified, especially for Elijah. I wish you would let me see him, I’m worried for you. For him. Syl, please tell me you’re okay, and that Eli is still learning his ABCs like how I taught him to. Can you write back? Thanks.

Once this shit clears out and society fades into normal again, I’ll take you and Eli out for dinner. A real dinner, a formal apology or whatever. I also found one of my dad’s vinage comic books from 2013, it’s real dusty, but when he gets a bit older you think he’d read it?

I love you, Syl. Please, for the love of god, don’t ignore me. Tell Elijah I miss him.

- From Tallon