Semi-Daily Scribbles

Franny walked up to the mailbox with the letter she'd spent three days composing. In her sturdy, tight handwriting, Franny explained why she could no longer be with Edna. They had been inseparable for 17 years, but the relationship had always clung to the edge of despair. Edna would slip, as she called it, and all the evils defiling the world were Franny's fault. Edna said the words "poor, poor, innocent Franny" over and over as she'd grab a fistful of hair, or strike her palm against a tear-stained cheek.

"For as much as you love me, you are my undoing." Edna would swear the soup Franny cooked tasted bitter with poison. The slice of cake at tea contained a shard of glass. "Even the trains aren't running on time because of your wickedness, Franny." The light had gone out of the sky, and it was Franny who had a reason, and the power, to destroy Edna. When Edna slipped, it was only to teach her beloved a lesson. As Franny placed her letter in the mailbox, the address on the envelope a place far outside of Edna's reach, she spoke aloud the words that were so very painful to write.

You are the light I cannot escape. Having tried for years to win your devotion by accepting your cruelty, I have killed off the goodness in both of us. As you slip this time, I give you permission to remain in the depths forever.