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Intermediate. Years 7/8/9


By Joe Coutanche, year 9, Elizabeth College

She lifted the letter to her now shallow bloodshot eyes and read it.
To My Darling
I guess it’s my time to go. I have spent my time but have I really learnt my lesson? There are many things that I won’t do ever again. Now I’m out I can’t get caught doing it again. I have no memories of the outside or before I first came, only you. This crap that I have got myself into it won’t happen again. The pressure just got to me. I can’t help my condition. Thanks for the commissary money. I can’t tell you how grateful I am. But now I am out I can make amends and fix up my life, get on the road again, with you. I just hope you haven’t let yourself go as much as I have. I hope your hair is still flowing like a waterfall cascading onto your shoulders. That your face is still like an angel even though I’m allergic to feathers. I hope you're still my sweetheart, although you’re 20 years older. I’m 20 years older. I don’t feel like I have aged at all. I’ve grown a nice beard that’s in my opinion quite manly. I’ve lost the freckles and the specks all for you. I'm just glad they didn’t give me the chair. I can’t wait to see you, to talk again, laugh again.
Love Mark
Sarah let out a sigh, finishing the letter and thinking back 15 years to when her husband was killed in a dodgy drug deal, and let out a lonely sob. Her hair was no longer flowing like a waterfall onto her shoulders and her face was old and frail. She was no longer the emotional person she once was. Now she’s just a hollowed out husk.

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