Was it only today, this early evening, sitting with dearest Emma in the cafe lounge of Costa that I received your first, tentative missive?
That Kik, those letters upon the page of my phone, holding so little content but alluding to a world of passion, a world where we could lose ourselves and let love find us, breathless and tumblecrazed. You wanted to know more about me. You asked me what genitals I availed myself of. I replied and then you replied that you were female ~ oh, the joy! It was like the cosmos planned for us to entwine! Shyly, you asked for erotica to escalate our passion:
My heart thumped in my chest as I agreed to the exchange, the only forgoing being that I would be sending felines rather than the bare coquettes you desired, you minx. You were puzzled by this. “What is cat?” you asked. It stabbed through my being, the first and last question, the alpha and omega of the heart, of love, of the universe itself.
Jenifer, I failed you. I walked to the edge of the abyss but where you leapt, gleefully, I could not follow. How could I hobble you in your quest for nude girls (and not cats)? The Lethe of your desire was unfordable and, dear Jenifer, I was also slightly worrying you would send me something well dodgy. We could not be as one but let us treasure the five minutes we had on Kik together till the Universe burns red and dim, dissipated from all energy like a tired cat or a nude girl after a long day of being nude.
It’s better this way, Jenifer. I cannot shine next to your lambent beauty, go on without me. Love, laugh, exchange pictures of nude girls with strangers on the ether. But, please. Please.
Never forget me.