Today there's no one here, so I find a rock and open my notebookfilled with letters to Lucca,reading them,noticing how the lettersdecreased in frequencyover the past couple of months.When i started,shortly after he died,I wrote them every day.I hurt so bad, I wanted to scream,but I couldn't,so my words on the pagebecame a diary of the pain.

-Lisa Schroeder

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