A letter penned by Sassy for a man she wishes she knew more about.
The following is scrawled across a partially crumpled piece of parchment:
Dear Mr. Smiley,
I am sorry.
I’m not too good with words, much, but it feels like we left a fair bit unsaid between us. It sticks with me like a thorn in my side, so I’ve picked up this quill in the hopes that gettin' these here thoughts on paper might bring me some peace. I’m gonna do my best to sort it all out, so I hope you’ll bear with me.
We never got much of a chance to speak on such, but I feel like I know you. Knew you. I feel like…like just on the edge of all the memories rattlin' around in my brain, that you might have been a part of them, somehow. I’m not too sure. I sorely wish I’d had the chance to ask you about it…or that you’d of had the wish to share with me the answers.
But if you were there, then why weren’t you there when it mattered? I remember you way back in the beginnin', and I wish I’d had the gumption to ask you where you’d gone for the rest of it. Where were you when I was driven out of my jobs because no one wanted to hire no tiefling? Where were you when I moved outside of town because the local kids kept breakin' the windows in all the places I lived in the city? I kept to myself, I found a little corner of piece and kept to it, but where were you durin' all this?
I think once that you told me to run. I think I took that advice more to heart than you might have intended, because I spent a fair shake of my years runnin'. I ran from the conflict and from the other people and from the fear in my heart that this was all there was for me. I ran, and a good dollop of all that bad got left in the dust, as it should.
I never did escape all the loneliness, though. I wish…if you were there, like I seem to remember, I wish you’d really been there. And I wish with all my heart that I’d been able to ask you about it when I seen you.
I’m real sorry that things shook out the way they did. I’m real sorry that the people I’m travelin' with seemed intent on keeping us from speakin' from the heart. I’m real sorry that all the mess with what was happenin' in the town distracted from what was important.
I guess I’m just real sorry. I’m real, real sorry.
You sang that song when we were in the thick of things, that real pretty one about the blackbird. I think that’s gonna stick with me for a long, long time. I don’t know if it was your intent, but the words said “take these broken wings and learn to fly”. I never heard something that I resonated with quite so much.
I know you maybe think runnin' is the best option. I know that maybe it was the smarter one, what with all the misunderstandin's that we had with the townfolk. But I don’t think runnin' is the same as flyin'. And I don’t want to run no more…I want to learn to fly, just like you said.
I hope that you find a way to fly, too. Maybe someday we’ll meet again, sailin in those star-studded skies.
P.S. I hope…(the last part of this message has been rendered illegible as thick drops of a clear liquid have made the ink of the words run together too much to be read).
Written by Zom