Then I know what you are thinking.
You are thinking I'm dead.
You're imagining scene after scene of possible ways I did it.
A rope, a knife, a gun, a bad, some pills, a cliff, the list goes on.
You quiver when you see the pictures inside your brain.
Now you start to question. Questioning everything you had seen me do or heard me say.
Where there signs, that you just didn't see?
If you are reading this then you found my note, hidden under my pillow.
A pillow that I will never get to sleep on again.
Maybe you should put the pillow in my casket, put who says you will find my body.
I'm certain you won't, but try if you must.



She folded the paper, placed it under her pillow, like the letter read. Kissing her puppy good bye, she knows he can sense what was coming. The letter pleased her. She left through the window, going on a new journey.