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SOLSTICE COMES
© 2015 by Ezekiel J. Krahlin
(a true tale from the castro; eat your heart out armistead)
Date: Wed, 16 Dec 2015 13:50:38
Subject: Here Come the Death Squads
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Carlyle Lambourne
Marco Rubio's America Would Be Hell for LGBT People
Carlyle:
It's already hell for us, this would be Super Hell. Based on polls, if the election occurred today, Rubio would beat Clinton. Resulting in an all-out war against LGBT's in every corner of the nation.
- Ezekiel
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke Krahlin
Subject: RE: Here Come the Death Squads
Date: Thu, 17 Dec 2015 10:35:34
Ezekiel,
I have thought for a while that Rubio would come out on top, the main reason being demographics: the Republicans trying to win minority vote of Hispanic immigrants, knowing that they have to expand beyond their "angry white male" voters, whom they have tried to *make* ever-more angry by feeding hate propaganda, to energize their vote.
Rubio is a protege of Jeb Bush, and really is just a puppet and a piece of window-dressing for the Bush camp of the old-school, old-money, Big Money GOP establishment.
Trying to look more "Tea Party" to reclaim the Tea Party breakaway vote, while really being an illusion to get control back for the country-club Republicans who are mostly only using the Christian Right vote to advance their own corporate, money-and-power based agenda.
Rubio is a total, typical Republican pig toward gay people, and of course all that the smiley-faced corporate media can see in him is that he represents young, fresh "ideas" and optimism like Ronald Reagan.
Have to wonder if the point will come where we cannot even continue with our lives in good conscience and need to take up arms literally against the Republicans, the Religious Right and the corporate media, simply to preserve our minimal self-respect, no matter how suicidal that would be, or how heavily outgunned. I think that such war would likely be a symbolic falling on the sword, since most gays are being obnoxiously low-energy with the outrages from these candidates. Like existing in 1862 and needing a Civil War, only difference being that this time, the lazy, guilt-ridden, bullied Yankee abolitionists don't have the ambition to fight it. They are too busy apologizing for themselves when accused of being prejudiced toward Southerners, and arrogantly disrespectful of their culture.
Would be an exercise in the symbolic self-sacrifice of doomed resistance, unless, that is, we can pull a nuke out of our magician's hat from the shadows to make the country really pay heed to the outrage that only a tiny number of us even have the sense to feel. The public is already learning to deal with smaller scale incidents by learning to become accustomed to them, so would have to seriously raise the bar to get anywhere.
I cannot predict the future (at least not with at-will regularity) and am not sure how it will all pan out, but do have feeling that there are in fact shadows and magician hats, so that major surprises are indeed at least possible.
Regards, Carlyle
Date: Thu, 17 Dec 2015 11:42:05
Subject: Re: Here Come the Death Squads
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Carlyle Lambourne
On Thu, Dec 17, 2015 at 10:52 AM, Carlyle Lambourne wrote:
{{ hate propaganda, to energize their vote. }}
We saw all this coming down the pike for quite a few years now. Including my prophetic visions of a global anti-queer holocaust.
{{ there are in fact shadows and magician hats, so that major surprises are in fact at least possible. }}
That's how I see it too, Carlyle. Reminds me of this corny old saying: "It is always darkest before the dawn." Trite but so very true. Meanwhile, I'm presently embroiled in a difficult passage with a very dear friend. Pasted below is what I just emailed to Eleanor Cooney (to save my fingers from extra typing):
--
Date: Thu, 17 Dec 2015 11:28:41
Subject: Re: Here Come the Death Squads
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor CooneyOn Wed, Dec 16, 2015 at 4:06 PM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:
{{ Indeed. And it won't be so great for wimminz, either. }}
Or blacks or Mexicans or...etc.
{{ He and ISIS are brothers under the skin. He wishes HE could throw gays off buildings and stone adulteresses. }}
Yep. The weakest link that allows such demagogues to get away with this, is the anti-gay hatred common among all other oppressed minorities. Homosexuals were being vilified by the Nazis before they began attacking the Jews (and other marginalized citizens). And the Jews et al looked the other way.
Now, we have a much greater awareness of homophobic elements in our society, which (hopefully) may turn the tide against them. But if not, then, frankly, I really would rather see the other minorities perish along with the LGBT's they so eagerly allowed to be persecuted and killed.
Christmas is always a grim time for me. Now, Zach is in terrible grief because his foster parents (from New Orleans) both died in the same week. They were very good to him, and he'd call them every few months since he left Louisana just before Hurricane Katrina struck. Zach has been a really good guy to me and many others, one of the bravest, kindest and handsomest men I've ever met. The last time he was over, he was short tempered, there was nothing I could do right. I realize his grief has turned him bitter...just like what happened to my formerly good buddy Johnnie, when his father died unexpectedly. Which chapter in my novel is all about.
I've done everything possible to give Zach the strength to pull through this awful trial...letting him know in /many/ ways how much he is loved, and how important he is to me. And others who are on the streets whom he watches over. But he does have access to all the drugs he wants, and can easily take his life as a result. I stay home every night after 8 PM, so that I will be there next time he drops by. He really needs to break down and cry in my arms, but the problem is one of trust, a very male ego kind of thing.
I have not written anything about the remarkable friendship I now have with Zach, that has blossomed in these last three months. He is an extraordinary fellow, always brings me gifts...and his sweet company that sometimes decides to sleep overnight. This death of his foster parents really kicked him in the guts, and may likely destroy our excellent association.
Meanwhile, here I sit each day in Posh Bagel, forced to listen to Christmas music schlock, as if the devil is mocking me. Nonetheless, I keep the faith as I've always done for Randolph, Johnnie, Larkin and so many other wonderful men who bear so much horror.
Wish I could be cheery, but Xmas is eerie.
- Zeke
Date: Thu, 17 Dec 2015 11:54:24
Subject: Re: Here Come the Death Squads
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
On Thu, Dec 17, 2015 at 11:45 AM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:
{{ So sorry about Zach. But so glad you're there for him. }}
I am glad, too. The little fella is so damned brave and independent, but it is time for him to collapse in my arms and cry it all out.
{{ Xmas is deeply melancholy for me, too...memories of my mother, Connecticut, my beloved stepdad Mike, and on and on, all gone with the wind, Miss Scarlett...wish I could get some memory-specific Alzheimer's. I'd be better off. }}
Well, if nothing else, this pattern for me (of Larkin, now Zach) is further affirmation of a great and positive breakthrough about to manifest. My boys are exhausting me into a vegetable state with their drama-queen antics...trying to scare the bejebus outta me, making me think it's all over, I've lost them for good.
I've never seen so much hogwash in one barrel, before!
Goddamn Xmas! I wanna break into houses and stomp all over the glittery trees and every single friggin gift underneath.
Kindest regards in memory of your mom, and all other loved ones.
- Zeke
Subject: Re: Here Come the Death Squads
To: Zeke Krahlin
From: Eleanor Cooney
Date: Thu, 17 Dec 2015 12:04:31
On 12/17/2015 11:54 AM, Zeke Krahlin wrote
{{ Goddamn Xmas! I wanna break into houses and stomp all over the glittery trees and every single friggin gift underneath. }}
On Thu, 17 Dec 2015 2:45:22, Eleanor Cooney wrote:
I'm with ya!
{{ Kindest regards in memory of your mom, and all other loved ones. - Zeke }}
Many thanks. Chin up.
Date: Thu, 17 Dec 2015 12:07:13
Subject: Re: Here Come the Death Squads
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
You got it, my friend! I'm no slave to grief. The dignity, love, pride and encouragement I give to my street pals I also give to yours truly.
- Zeke
Date: Fri, 18 Dec 2015 14:28:46
Subject: He's gonna be fine.
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Just saw my straight street pal, Hollywood, who reports back to me on Larkin's doings...but is now also looking out for Zach, whom he sighted two nights ago.
"I saw Zach by the post office on Market & 8th, at Fox Plaza. Doing his usual can crushing and hanging out with his buds."
"Did he look okay, was he acting strange, like maybe angry or withdrawn?"
"Nope, he seems to be doing good, as usual."
Hollywood knew of Zach's recent tragedy, since I informed him. Thus I was most happy to hear the great news. So now I know he'll be just fine...even if for whatever reason he doesn't visit me any more. Though I think he'll resume, due to all the nice times we've been having for more than five months so far.
Just last week, he called to me from a third block up, with such a kind smile and wave of the hand, my heart melted. I could tell how happy he was to see me, as he usually is.
And the time he wanted to sleep over, but I said no, due to my overheated SRO during an especially hot day. He never argues with me, and in this case he just said, "okay" and left after a few more minutes of conversation. Later that night I peered out a window to see him snoozing by the curb just below me, and surrounded by those large green trash bigs filled with bottles and cans. This was the first time I know of, that he dozed off by my apt. building. He looked so innocent and cute, I felt truly blessed to have him nearby, even though he couldn't actually be right beside me. I really wanted to escort him inside, but the heat was too oppressive.
Our association is truly an O'Henry affair, with of course a gay spin to it. But don't tell /him/ that, or he'll run away and never return! In spite of all the sweet BJ's I've given him so far (must be at least 40 by now), and his very sexy moans and thrusts of the hips that always drive me up a wall. (This dude gushes like a fireman's hose, so no complaint from /this/ thirsty acolyte!) He really has that male mojo going, that makes him so charismatically erotic, he doesn't even need to lift a finger to turn me on.
Our feelings are obviously mutual, but don't ever tell Zach! He's about to "cross that line" and do me like a housewife does spring cleaning.
- Zeke
Date: Fri, 18 Dec 2015 14:48:13
Subject: Re: He's gonna be fine.
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
On Fri, Dec 18, 2015 at 2:37 PM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:
{{ A little reciprocation wouldn't be a bad thing, though, would it? }}
You can't rush these kinda dudes...and the fact he's been comin' back for more--a lot more than just 1 or 2 times--is a really good sign. He /is/ reciprocating in his own very sexy way.
I've certainly enjoyed from time to time, just kicking back and getting serviced w/o being expected to reciprocate. There is a unique pleasure in the art of exclusively giving, and exclusively receiving. I gave up a long time ago, looking for dudes with 100% all-around mutual everything, as that would eliminate over 90% of my already rare (at least up until a half year ago) sex life.
In fact, I've met the occasional dude who /only/ wants to blow me, and nothing else.
To push Zach into reciprocating, would drive him away, thus I'd lose the sweet pleasure of having him in ways that he can presently deal with. So, if things remain as they presently are, I won't feel the least bit deprived.
For when I consider the variety of men I now have in my life--when you put them all together--I have what pieces fit into a fully reciprocal sex life. Just not in the way most people think of it, and who could never understand any other kind of mutual buddy-hood. The mistake many folks make is trying to match hetero relations with gay ones, as if they were mutually comparative. Which they are not. The baggage that comes with a male hooking up with a female (pregnancy, etc.), is totally unequivocal to male-on-male.
- Zeke
Date: Fri, 18 Dec 2015 15:00:51
Subject: One more thing about Zach...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
He used to hustle back in New Orleans, to survive. This means he's extra careful not to put himself in a situation for being taken advantage of. So ya gotta be extra-patient and loving to such men, when they give you a sign how much they really like you.
In this way, dudes can even be worse than women, when it comes to proving your love. So getting even /this/ far is a remarkable level of progress. He's dropped bringing the girlie magazines over some months back, and usually falls asleep with his shirt open and pants pulled down...something which he didn't do in the recent past. He also flashes his butt cheeks now and then, by turning his back to me and pulling up his pants...as if he were unaware of the eye candy he presents.
He's testing me, though with a promise of more fun if I pass. To make sure I'm in control of my urges, to prove I care about him beyond the hot sex. And I do. In fact, I'd be really delighted to sleep in each other's embrace with our clothes on...and forego even playing with his amazing equipment.
He sleeps over about once per week, and it is /so/ nice just lying next to him...like the energy spills from his soul to blanket me in comfort.
- Zeke
Date: Sat, 19 Dec 2015 03:08:20
Subject: Re: One more thing about Zach...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
On Fri, Dec 18, 2015 at 3:46 PM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:
{{ Nice!!! }}
That's putting it mildly. We're both lucky to have each other.
Date: Sat, 19 Dec 2015 19:21:00
Subject: More thoughts on Zach
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Most men are pigs, you know that. So one needs to find ways to filter out the exceptions before you trust them with intimate conjugal pleasures. Zach only recently confessed to me that he was a hustler for some years in New Orleans (which I already figured out a long time ago), while tears streaked that sweetly handsome face. Yet he did not want me to hug him, in spite of my offer to do just that.
So, he wants to be sure I'm not being so kind to him, just to get into his pants. While offering me, at the same time, a certain level of sexual play that is really fun for us both. He is also still scared, so it seems, that I blow his "cover," which would destroy his "street cred" as an alpha male in rougher parts of the city. He knows better, but this is the melodrama he chooses to play out, in order to spice up our incredible camaraderie. For even w/o any threat of homophobia, there remain the jealous queens who relish the destruction of any loving relationships that blossom in their midst (of which the gay bars are a most convenient scenario for such wicked sport).
Even more than that: anyone who is so incredibly handsome (as is Zach) often becomes the target of jealous souls. IOW: if they can't have him, no one can...thus they set up diabolical traps to create misery and destitution for these hapless and sweet victims. But Zach knows very well by now, I would never expose him to any kind of victimization, respecting as I do his desire to keep our affairs on the "down low." Such an arrangement goes way beyond machismo insecurity, and is a genuine effort to thwart small-minded, envious souls from wrecking a most glorious affair.
Zach is very intelligent as well as kind, and wants to be sure I'm not gonna rate him as just another notch on my bedpost (which I don't really have anywayz 'cause I sleep on just a plain bedroll in my cruddy SRO). But it's even more than that:
He knows how to play The Game, that is: giving me the wondrous chance to prove my fidelity even though he knows it's already intact and inviolate. This is The Game of Love Between Two Men Who've Found Delight in Each Other's Arms. Which can never be compared on any level of heterosexual bonding. Zach is brilliant in His Dance of Brotherly Companionship, and obviously knows how to take it to Its Inevitable Consummation.
His years as a hustler have taught him well.
Zach's presenting me with his "booty" bracelet, flashing his luscious butt cheeks from time to time, and moaning passionately as his semen elixir gushes down my throat, all give dear promise of a heavenly future in his embrace (both arms and legs).
Even his grief from loss of his foster parents is his intended scenario to bring out my expressions of love towards this most gracious dude. Zach sure knows what he's doing!
So, he keeps me at bay for a while longer, that I may agonize over the possibility of losing his company forever. Men of a smaller mind would call him "bastard" at this point. I, however, hear his subliminal call to hang in there and prepare myself for the wedding.
Larkin be damned.
- Zeke
Date: Sun, 20 Dec 2015 22:02:26
Subject: Simian Braggadocio
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
After gulping down my latest gush of Zach's sweet sperm, I sat back in my chair and thumped my chest like an alpha gorilla, and declared: "Gots to have my vitamin Zach to keep me going!" He blushed like nobody's business.
Date: Mon, 21 Dec 2015 11:06:04
Subject: Re: Simian Braggadocio
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
On Sun, Dec 20, 2015 at 10:19 PM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:
{{ It's alive, alive-o! }}
It even salutes me like a soldier at attention. I should put a little hat on it.
Date: Thu, 24 Dec 2015 18:46:45
Subject: I should've included this in my last email.
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
So I told Zach, "I'd really like you to come over on Christmas." To which he responded:
"I got plans for the ladies that day!"
I knew he was teasing me, so I replied with equal humor:
"Oh, god forbid I should ruin your plans. I just don't like the idea of you being alone for Christmas. If you have other stuff going on that day, please by all means have fun."
"Okay," he turned that sweet mug in my direction with a smile and a nod.
"I will be perfectly fine, it's just a date on the calendar. I used to prefer to be alone and think of My Randolph on Christmas Day, until I met Larkin. Randolph's birthday, by the way, is December 30th."
"Uh-huh," he politely whispered.
"So if you don't show up on Christmas, I will nonetheless count my blessings and think of what a good friend you are, and what magnificent men God has brought me over the years...Larkin and Randolph among them of course."
He continued to look at me without speaking a word. So I explicated:
"But I will be pissed off, anywayz."
"Oh?" Zach raised an eyebrow, thinking I meant I'd be upset at his absence on That Highest Of Amerikan holidays.
"Not because you might not show up, but because of Larkin. After all the nice cards I've sent him for many holidays without him responding in kind, I do get PO'd at him." I elaborated:
"It's nice to get pissed off at Larkin, because he means so much to me. I actually /like/ hating him during the holidays, only because he knows that's how his negligence makes me feel. Otherwise, please realize, Zach, that all I care about is for you to be happy, and not alone on Christmas Day, unless that's what you want."
Of course, El, I know he'll show up on the eve of December 25, only because he /has/ no "ladies" in his life--he is an innocent soul only out to protect his "street cred"--and loves me more than anyone else he's ever met.
He is, after all, My Very Own Gift of the Magi. Praise O'Henry!
- Zeke
Date: Thu, 24 Dec 2015 19:14:39
Subject: I hate saying goodbye to Larkin...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
...it seems so pointless and full of stupid grief.
Why can't I have both him and Zach in my life?
And I think I will, because the Fat Lady has not yet sung.
- Zeke
Date: Thu, 24 Dec 2015 19:52:03
Subject: Re: I hate saying goodbye to Larkin...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
On Thu, Dec 24, 2015 at 7:25 PM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:
{{ Well, you got Zach, and I like him a lot bettr'n I like Larkin (that's the view from here, anywayz... }}
No, Larkin is most beloved in every way possible. This is a divine romance orchestrated by the Flying Spaghetti Monster Herself, that I may win many glorious men to my side. Zach is whom Larkin brought to me, that I may pull through after his stupendous challenges.
{{ I'm betting he'll show up t'morra. Toward evening. }}
Well, it's 7:53 PM right now, not too late to expect Zach to show up. Whatever.
- Zeke
Date: Thu, 24 Dec 2015 18:19:29
Subject: My final (surprise) postcard to Larkin...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
...before his P.O. box service shuts down. It only occurred to me to print out these final words to a chapter flush with love, sacrifice, tears and absurd drama. And tape them to the front of a San Francisco postcard:
--
Everything I do is for you, Larkin. Sometimes that means opposing you when I see you headed in a bad direction. Even if it means you hate me for that, because you don't understand, or are blinded by compulsion. Even if it means I must sacrifice our friendship for the sake of your soul's deliverance. Let this be my New Year's gift to you. We both love you...me, and God.
--
I have no idea yet, what words I will scroll on the address side, but that empty space will surely be graced with something of great benevolence. Perhaps this:
--
Always know that friend-
ship conquers all.
--
Meanwhile, here comes Zach this Christmas Eve (I presume) and/or after 8 PM the next day. His kindness and sweet golden erections do more for my happiness and oral bliss than Zeus's own ejaculatory devotion! And if you think I'm being too hyperbolic in my appreciation of this Louisiana bundle of manly confection, I have failed in communicating to you, just what a dulcet angel he is.
He spoke on my phone with someone who helps run the foster home he was raised in, and which foster mother was so good to him and all her other difficult charges. As you know, he's suffering great grief these days, due to the passage of this fine woman. He broke down into tears during this call, and confessed:
"I am very sorry for being such a mess while I was there, and making things so difficult. But I want you to know that I truly appreciate all the support, love and patience you've shown me for many years. You've given me so much reason to live, I cannot thank you enough."
The conversation was more prolonged than that, and included why he couldn't return to New Orleans for the funeral, as he'd likely be arrested the moment the first cop confronted him.
"I have too many warrants for my arrest in that state, to ever return," he spoke through tearful words.
Well, Eleanor, I know exactly what his so-called "crimes" are, for he revealed them to me some days ago while sharing his sorrow with me over the loss of his foster parents:
"I'm a criminal in Louisiana! Two charges against me: marijuana possession and sleeping in the streets."
He's an innocent soul, Ellie. Those are not crimes at all, but for the cruelty with which society burdens such good men and women (whose only "sin" is that of vulnerability).
Once he hung up, he still wept, so I fell from my cushy chair (on four rollers, from which one had broken off last week) and onto my knees to embrace him. I told him:
"You didn't need to humble yourself so much...but it was a very good thing you just did. For that man who runs a foster home must go through very painful trials in caring for troubled youth like yourself. So you just made his day, if not his life, by reaching out to him with tremendous heart. Maybe no one else has done that before. You gave him a great gift for all the good things he's done that may have gone unnoticed but for you. You're a wonderful man, Zach."
He then pushed me aside, that he display a false intent of macho independence. Yet I knew better.
His heart grew lighter as the minutes passed, and he asked to take a shower down the hallway. "Of course," I replied, and handed him my towel and wash rag. He returned naked to the waist, and hunkered down upon the bedding while I admired his glorious torso.
Puffing on a joint that Zach rolled for me, I couldn't resist declaring to him as he turned his head to the right, that I may enjoy this little gesture of "giving face" since he knows how beautiful he is, and how much pleasure I gain from gazing upon him:
"You sure are a delight, just to look upon!"
"Thank you Zeke," he spoke in soft regard as he lowered his tousled head in humility.
It was all I could do at that precious cameo, to keep from diving into his crotch and pressing my lips upon his balls and cock, through those zipped-up, rayon trousers. But I sensed he didn't want to mix up affection with lust at this moment (though I was ready to put both to work via my shameless tongue).
A while later he stood by the sink to comb out his hair and brush his teeth, while I sat back in exultation over his sexy, half-naked form in the gratitude of an older man for whom a much younger protege wills conscious acquiescence. Then he requested $25 from me. To which I answered:
"Oh, okay. But don't expect me to give you any more money for the rest of this month."
"No, please trust me; I will pay you back in a day or two."
"You don't have to pay me back," I riposted, "because I can handle that amount without any trouble. Just know that you have me around your little finger." I gestured then with a pinkie extended in the air, near his darling face. He laughed.
"I'm a sucker for you, Zach. You are such a cute and handsome man, you pretty much have your way with me."
"Thank you, Zeke. I feel the same way about you."
"Just so you know, Zach. If you can't pay me back, I can handle it. You have my trust no matter what."
So I dug out my wallet from its hidden location, pulled out a twenty and five ones, and handed it to him. Then teased him several times over:
"You got me around your little finger, buddy. And I like it."
Which made him shiver with such candor as he brushed those auburn locks, that I was startled by this utter reciprocation of my affections so soon. I finally presented him with my gentle mandate:
"Just understand that I know when to say 'no,' if such times come to pass. Only because I need to take care of myself, too."
Seems that his foster mom sent him $300 every few months or so, and the person he spoke with promised to send him that amount once more, the very next day. Zach swore he'd reimburse me ASAP. But I made it clear to him that if things should go awry, I won't hold him to it. But I also flattered him:
"Buddy, I'd pay you a hundred dollars if I could afford it, for every chance I get to press my tongue upon that glorious hard-on!"
To which he quickly replied "Shhh!" while untangling the knots from his thick, golden hair. But I pressed on:
"Buddy, I'd pay you /two/ hundred dollars, if I could!"
He chortled with the lilt of a friend who knew he finally found his way home, which was in my arms and out of my dreams. I felt so much joy at his perfect reaction so fluent with mutual delight.
When it came time for his departure, I begged for another hug. He fell into my arms without a moment's hesitation, and I gripped his shoulders like the beloved comrade he's turned out to be. After some eternal moments he pulled away and exited down the short hallway, in a blue raincoat that complimented his hazel eyes so well. As he turned the corner and down the stairs, I called out:
"I love you, Zach!"
He responded in a simple but reassuring, "Yup!" before disappearing from my impassioned view.
Is it just for the love of money he's become so ardent, El? Tell you what I think: I don't give a flying fuck; I need that gushing boner in my mouth as often as possible. And he's sure as hell got me wrapped around that little finger!
Larkin's loss is Zach's gain. What an incredible twist in the plot this is.
- Zeke
Date: Thu, 24 Dec 2015 19:03:16
Subject: Re: My final (surprise) postcard to Larkin...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
On Thu, Dec 24, 2015 at 6:26 PM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:
{{ Beautiful story. Many thanks. }}
I'm a slobbering bag of nerves right now. Thank you for enjoying my latest missives. Listening to one of my favorite love songs, "Break up to Make up" by the Stylisitcs. If you ever wanna have a good cry, tune them in:
- Zeke
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