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August 21st
Dear Easton,
Hi Easton,
Hey there,
Hey,
Sorry for the mess above. They only give us one piece of paper, and I’m wasting it again. Just a heads up, I’m a terrible writer, but you know why I’m here. Ugh, that came off so rude. I’m sorry.
My name’s Harley Cole, in case you didn’t see the front of the envelope. My dad loves Harley Davidson, and my mom loves Harley Quinn, so it was within their mutual interest to give me the worst name possible. I bet you were wondering about that; everyone always asks, even though it’s so rude.
Anyway, they told us to write about our lives, but I spend the majority of my day trying to run from it and stick my nose in a book. So, what do you do to ignore the reality of your life? Did that come off as rude? I didn’t mean to be, I swear. I’ve just never spoken to someone in jail before.
I’m supposed to be a journalism major, but naturally, I can’t think of a damn thing to write now. I don’t care for the typical questions, but I guess I’ll ask them anyway since it’s expected.
Your favorite color?
Your most hated color?
Your favorite childhood movie?
Your favorite TV show theme song?
Your favorite fast food?
Ketchup or mayo?
BMW or Mercedes?
