He had not been expecting a letter that night during mail call, but there it was, proffered to him by the guard presiding over the open bay barracks in which he was assigned.. “Johnson! You want this letter or what!”, “yes, Sir, I’m sorry sir, I want the letter please.” Brian Johnson, better know as inmate 215509 in the state facility he was housed in for mistakes many years past, had not received many letters over the previous years. Most of his family had ostracized him and they believed that disassociating and disowning Brian was the only method of erasing his from the family tree. time, in fact he had wonderful memories to cling to him b the past four or five years he just continued on a downward spiral until he’d found himself here, incarcerated as a dangerous felon, and trying to learn how to survive with what little tools he had been taught and even less help from his surroundings. After all, what he craved was a good book, he had been in this hell-hole for and read a few books. Most of all, Brian wanted human contact
Things had been better at one point, still locked up of course, but letters daily, phone calls from family, from loved ones, and visitation every weekend. Brian knew the reason most of the changed happened were his own fault, but always felt he’d been backed against in a wall and had no other choices to make. Brian made choices to survive and he didn’t regret them, but making those choices hurt and cost him deeply. So why, now, after all this time was he looking at a letter in very neat print addressed to him. What could she possibly want?
She was the reason the happiest of his years were behind him now, she moved away to start over. She couldn’t stand the betrayal he had perpetrated at the cost of her trust. Maybe she was writing to him to tell him she’s coming home, she’s ready to give him a second chance after seeing the progress he’s made (he had, after all, continually wrote her and kept her up to date on the positive changes as they happened. On occasion he would get a letter letting him know her mom had passed, and her grandmother. She’d kept him up to date on the devastating heath news she received, and more and more sporadically she wrote. Brian’s only concern was maybe she wasn’t healthy enough to write anymore, or worse, what if she had died? And now, holding this leader, he knew that she was physically alive and still listening.
He spent a few minutes holding the letter against his face, pretending it to me her soft skin, he breathed in the faint scent of her perfume and studied each individual letter she had written on the outside of the envelop. But was he ready to open it it? What would he find when he did? The worst would be her telling him to no longer write, she’d moved on and her new life simply didn’t include an inmate with little hope of getting out of prison. If the letter said that, he know it would destroy him. Maybe he should wait and think about it and prepare himself for what the worst could be, that way it wouldn’t be such a shock. He knew she loved him at one point, and he felt she still must, but she simply is not willing to given another attempt after the previous disaster, but than again.. she had said she loved him and still saw herself with him once they worked past the issues. He’d agreed immediately to counseling, Brian decided to go outside for a game of softball and the mull this choice over before he came inside to see which direction his future may or may not follow.
Brian continued to find ways to ignore the letter, day after day and night after night. He prayed for a sign from God that he was meant to know what the letter says. He didn’t know what sign he was looking for, but surely God would think of something. One autumn night, week after setting the unopened letter on his bookcase had begun to collect dust, Brian was killed by a hit and run driver not even a stone’s throw for a child..