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Description
Dear Mom,

There's a girl living in the apartment right above mine, apartment 3B. I've been in there once; I helped her move out her old couch and replace it with a new one. She granted me the opportunity to look around the apartment just a little bit. It looked as though nobody lived there. The bed was completely made, and I got the assumption (due to the thick layer of dust covering the sheets and pillows) that she had never slept in that bed. There was no food in the kitchen, and the stove looked completely unused. The only sign of any human life in the apartment (aside from the fact that there was now a very used blanket and a pillow on the brand new couch) was the half-full purifying pitcher of water in the refrigerator. I mean, yes, there were clothes, there had to have been clothes, but they weren't in the bedroom closet. I don't know where they were.

Since the replacement of the couch, I've had many chances to speak with this girl. She's learned my name, many of my dreams, my hopes... She has offered me little knowledge of herself. I know that she doesn't own a car -- or any mode of transportation other than her feet, for that matter -- and that she doesn't have a job. At the moment she's living off of an inheritance... When I speak to her, it's as though she's peering into a far off place, and not looking at me, speaking to me. I swear, she's longing to get out of this place, but she doesn't know how. She goes out every morning, and often doesn't return until the next day... And if she does return that same day, she goes out that evening. She walks. Aimlessly. I don't understand it, but she gets a release from it. She's always... "closer" when she's just returned from a walk. She's not watching the horizon, or staring off into space. She's more open, too...

That's it! That's what it is about her. That's what makes her seem so off to me.I've just had a realization about this girl, Mother: she's a lost, adventuring soul. A girl with no real place in the world. She wants to be out and about, not rooted to a house. Maybe a husband, but never a whole family. Never children. I'm pretty sure that's the last thing she wants...

Oh, gosh. I've been talking about this girl since the beginning of this letter. I should get off it, shouldn't I? I'm sure you'd rather hear about your dear son. I mean, you asked about my job right? Yeah, I did get that promotion. It's not as great as I hoped it would be. I mean, it's nice to have a raise... Puts a little more money in savings for my retirement... As though I haven't got enough of that already. I don't know what I'm doing, Mom. I hate this job. I hate this city. I'm living in a cesspool of ignorance and bad decisions. I want to get out of here.

I want to leave, Mother. I want to leave it all behind.

...I think I want to travel, Mom. I don't want to stay here and work anymore. I don't want to spend the rest of my life in this disease-infested rat-hole.

And I can't get this girl off my mind.

...I've made a decision, Mother. I don't want you to send me letters anymore. I'll write you. Maybe I'll visit you. I'm going out. I'm leaving the apartment. I'm going to buy a car of some sort, and I'm going to pack some clothes in it, and I'm going to ask this girl to go adventuring with me, and if she says yes we're going to leave this horrible place together.

We're going to enjoy the rest of our lives the way we want to. Don't worry. When I stop by, I'll let you know if we have any plans to get married, because I know that's your first question about this girl. And no, you can't expect any grandchildren, because I know that's your second question.

The rest of my life will be amazing, because now I'm going to live it out the way I want to. I'll settle down when I'm old and crippled, and unable to move on my own. Don't try to track me down, and don't worry about me. I'll be just fine. Let Dad know that I miss him. Send Sue my regards.

Love,
Jon

Description
Dear Mom,

There's a girl living in the apartment right above mine, apartment 3B. I've been in there once; I helped her move out her old couch and replace it with a new one. She granted me the opportunity to look around the apartment just a little bit. It looked as though nobody lived there. The bed was completely made, and I got the assumption (due to the thick layer of dust covering the sheets and pillows) that she had never slept in that bed. There was no food in the kitchen, and the stove looked completely unused. The only sign of any human life in the apartment (aside from the fact that there was now a very used blanket and a pillow on the brand new couch) was the half-full purifying pitcher of water in the refrigerator. I mean, yes, there were clothes, there had to have been clothes, but they weren't in the bedroom closet. I don't know where they were.

Since the replacement of the couch, I've had many chances to speak with this girl. She's learned my name, many of my dreams, my hopes... She has offered me little knowledge of herself. I know that she doesn't own a car -- or any mode of transportation other than her feet, for that matter -- and that she doesn't have a job. At the moment she's living off of an inheritance... When I speak to her, it's as though she's peering into a far off place, and not looking at me, speaking to me. I swear, she's longing to get out of this place, but she doesn't know how. She goes out every morning, and often doesn't return until the next day... And if she does return that same day, she goes out that evening. She walks. Aimlessly. I don't understand it, but she gets a release from it. She's always... "closer" when she's just returned from a walk. She's not watching the horizon, or staring off into space. She's more open, too...

That's it! That's what it is about her. That's what makes her seem so off to me.I've just had a realization about this girl, Mother: she's a lost, adventuring soul. A girl with no real place in the world. She wants to be out and about, not rooted to a house. Maybe a husband, but never a whole family. Never children. I'm pretty sure that's the last thing she wants...

Oh, gosh. I've been talking about this girl since the beginning of this letter. I should get off it, shouldn't I? I'm sure you'd rather hear about your dear son. I mean, you asked about my job right? Yeah, I did get that promotion. It's not as great as I hoped it would be. I mean, it's nice to have a raise... Puts a little more money in savings for my retirement... As though I haven't got enough of that already. I don't know what I'm doing, Mom. I hate this job. I hate this city. I'm living in a cesspool of ignorance and bad decisions. I want to get out of here.

I want to leave, Mother. I want to leave it all behind.

...I think I want to travel, Mom. I don't want to stay here and work anymore. I don't want to spend the rest of my life in this disease-infested rat-hole.

And I can't get this girl off my mind.

...I've made a decision, Mother. I don't want you to send me letters anymore. I'll write you. Maybe I'll visit you. I'm going out. I'm leaving the apartment. I'm going to buy a car of some sort, and I'm going to pack some clothes in it, and I'm going to ask this girl to go adventuring with me, and if she says yes we're going to leave this horrible place together.

We're going to enjoy the rest of our lives the way we want to. Don't worry. When I stop by, I'll let you know if we have any plans to get married, because I know that's your first question about this girl. And no, you can't expect any grandchildren, because I know that's your second question.

The rest of my life will be amazing, because now I'm going to live it out the way I want to. I'll settle down when I'm old and crippled, and unable to move on my own. Don't try to track me down, and don't worry about me. I'll be just fine. Let Dad know that I miss him. Send Sue my regards.

Love,
Jon