I’ve been getting strange letters from the St….

scary-stories:

Maybe I allowed myself to be disarmed by the fact that he came at three in the afternoon. He knocked very softly for a man of his stature, hulking as he was at six foot four with wide shoulders and big, hairy knuckles. When I asked how I could help him, he reached into his coat pocket, withdrew an envelope, and held it out to me. Who wears a coat in August? I took the envelope and looked it over. Its face was stamped over several times with information for the St. Louis Correctional Facility. A letter from prison. Great. I didn’t know anyone in prison. Then, I noticed a post-it note paperclipped to the back of the envelope. It read simply:

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