Dear Mr. Walter,
I read your obituary in yesterday’s paper this evening and felt compelled to write to you. Knowing very little about your life, other than what your family shared in the notice of your death, I’m still curious about what your life meant now that you are no longer living.
I would like to share with you a little bit about me so that you have an idea of who is writing to you. If you do choose to write back to me, this knowledge might help inform your response. I’m more than happy to answer any questions that you may have about me.
I’m twenty-seven years old. I’m five-feet-seven-inches tall. I’m balding so I shave my head. My natural hair colour is a dark, nearly black, brown. I’m currently in between jobs, working part time for a charity, picking up used clothing and household items from peoples’ homes. I pay a small amount of rent for a room in a friend’s house, who is a childhood friend of mine. I don’t know what I want to do with my life, as a career, but I hope to figure this out soon. I don’t have a girlfriend or a wife.
Your obituary didn’t say how you died, but you were a young man, at only thirty-two. How did you die?
I’ve asked this to other people who I have written to, but no one has written back yet. It seems funny to me that those who have died don’t have enough time to write back. Then again, maybe they just don’t want to.
Well, Mr. Walter, I do hope to hear back from you. I hope you are keeping well, wherever you are.
Sincerely,
T—
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