Dear Violet. I’m getting out. Today. This doesn’t feel real. I keep thinking the guards are going to walk back into my cell and tell me they’ve changed their minds. But all they’ve done so far is bring me paperwork to sign and street clothes to change into. Meet me on Sunday. At the Saint View bluffs. Like we planned. Fuck, I can’t wait. Levi.
This is the same font I believe Heath Briggs' notes in whatever book two of Dear Reader is called
