Posts
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@hotmail.com >
Sent: Sunday August 4th, 1999 20:31PM
Subject: I’m going mad
It’s a few hours now and I still haven’t heard…I did try to give you a call…but it just rang out…where are you? Maybe you’ve moved out instead…god if you’ve moved out…how will I contact you…maybe you’re under a bus…or hit by a train…or beaten up by wayward men…or Elsa and Crisps have cut you into little pieces pickled you, stuck you in larder…never to eat you…looking at regifting you…
oh God…maybe you’ve done a runner…maybe you’re in Prison…maybe you’ve killed Crisps …maybe you’re not real…and I’ve been emailing myself over the last few months…
I’ve gone mad!!!
Okay Stacey, breath, breath…this isn’t about you…it’s about Dom…okay, refocusing now…looking back toward you… and I’m going to read and wait for you…I hope you’re okay…
Maybe you’re at the Hitlon…
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@hotmail.com >
Sent: Sunday August 4th, 1999 21:11 PM
Subject: Not at the Hitlon
Okay so you’re not at the Hitlon…felt like an idiot ringing there…but you never know…I’d hate you to spend a night alone in a King Sized bed…
...god... I’m a whore…what’s wrong with me…I’m sure that’s the last thing you’re thinking of…anyway…I feel so hopeless…I’ll wait a little longer…
