Page 3 of A Man in Uniform

Dear Wyatt,

Why haven't you written me yet!? I'm sure you've gotten my letters, at least one of them by now. I've written you twice a month now for a year. And you haven't written me once.

Where the hell are you Wyatt Saint!?

I told you about my father getting sick, and heard nothing.

I told you I needed to hear from you. I told you I just needed you, and still I got nothing.

I can't do this anymore. I can't continue to give myself to you, and get nothing in return. It's not fair. I deserve to be seen Wyatt Saint. And if you can't even see me from a distance, how are you ever going to see me when I'm standing right in front of you?

Twelve months of emptiness. Twelve months of silence. Twelve months of regret.

Do you even see me at all Wyatt?

I know you're not on some vacation. I understand that where you are is dangerous.

But I still need you too. All I've ever asked for is a handful of words on paper. I don't think that's too much. Let the ink speak for you. Let the ink show me you're still here.

I can't keep doing this.

I won't keep doing this.

I'm done.

—Story

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