Page 171 of Glitched Play

Glitch is written in calligraphy type fancy letters whereas the address is just printed with a blue pen.

I run my finger under the seam and the flap unseals. I pinch the paper inside and pull it out slowly. Am I ready for this?

It’s folded in thirds on ivory textured paper. She’s always loved stationary. When we were young it was Hello Kitty, then she moved on to paper that had designs, or that had bows. One year, she used paper that said “From the Game Room of Rune.” The past couple of years she’s moved into elegant, expensive stationary—plain and beautiful with the texture being the point.

I unfold it and take a breath when I see how long it is.

Glitch,

I rewrote this letter more times than I can count because I wasn't sure goodbye was the right word.

Maybe it isn't.

Maybe it's simply... enough. Or until it’s time.

Ten years is a long time to know someone you've never met.

You've celebrated every victory with me, reminded me that failure wasn't permanent, and somehow always knew when I needed someone to tell me to keep going.

You helped me become the woman I wanted to be long before I believed she existed.

I hope I did some of that for you too.

Life has started changing in ways I never expected. Good ways.

And for the first time in a very long time, I think I'm finally ready to stop living inside a headset.

Thank you...

For every message.

Every late-night conversation.

Every terrible joke.

Every reminder that somewhere in the world there was one person who understood me.

You were my safe place.

You’ll always be special to me and I hope you feel the same.

You’re a man that calculates and I believe if our paths were ever meant to cross, they would have by now.

I think it's time we let each other become memories instead of possibilities.

Goodbye, Glitch.

Thank you for carrying pieces of me until I was strong enough to carry them myself.

—Rune

I read it. And re-read it. Maybe four times before I fold it neatly and slip it back into the envelope.

Part of me feels relieved because part of me felt guilty for being happy without her, but maybe she is playing the exact same game—ready for the next level in life.

I’m actually glad she didn’t go into it. Her letter was completely her.

Honest.