“Wish you were here”… If only I knew where “here” was…
It’s been three years since he disappeared. Three years of wracking my brain trying to retrace his steps, three years of chasing every dead-end clue.
Sometimes I try to accept it, to move on with my life, but, like clockwork, that’s when it shows up.
That damned postcard, with the same picture and the same unfamiliar signature, identical every time. The only thing that changes is the body part sent with it—a finger or an ear… Somehow, even after so long, they still arrive fresh, bloody, even warm…
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