“What do you think? Good, huh?” I said to Harpo after I handed him the letter and waited a minute or two for him to read it.
“This is terrible,” he said. “You can’t even show up in person to speak with your younger self? Instead you deputize and send in an imaginary young woman?”
“She’s my Guardian Angel, Harpo, not a fake,” I replied.
“Well, let’s just say she’s not a verifiable entity,” he said.
“I verified her personally,” I said, knowing I was stepping out beyond the truth as well as the reasonable, a dangerous two strikes.
“Don’t you see what you did in this letter?” he asked. “You refused to speak with your old self. And you used an unrealistic notion to write a fairly innocent account of your behavior. Look, I’m not saying you should deal with Jesse if you’re not ready. Or that you’re to just pick on his faults. This shouldn’t be a guilt fest. But get the actors to play themselves before you go any farther.”
I’m not sure how long ago that took place, but I have not yet got around to trying another letter.
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