Fire is a cleansing force of nature. It burns, it consumes, and it breathes. Glenn has spent many nights before a fire writing letters on scraps of paper where he can find it. He has poured out his heart onto those pages, into those words, and then he leaves them to the flame. Perhaps when the smoke rises it will carry his soul with it, and send his words and his heart to the intended recipient.

More likely they will simply burn up and be forgotten, but it's a nice thought nonetheless.

Dear Maida,

I thought of you today. It's not the first time, but it is the first time in a long, long while.

You were ever too good for this sorry old gunslinger, this sad sack of a man. I'm sorry that Madison and I let you down. I'm sorry that I let you down.

I can only hope your afterlife is more pleasant than mine, or that if there is no afterlife at all, then you are at least at rest.

Go in peace, sweet girl, and know that I have not nor will I ever forget about you.

- Glenn