✂
✂ - if you want my muse to write yours an unsent letter
Dear Mr. Lutece,
I’ve always found it strange, how you have a tendency to show up without notice. Other people always have the sound of their own heels trailing behind them, but you—it’s like you’ve always been there, just waiting. I guess I’m just trying to come to an understanding; what is it exactly that you’re waiting for?
You know, I can’t help but feel a slight unease when you’re around. Sometimes I even feel it when you’re not around. I’ve been trying to figure out why, and then I realized, it’s because you’ve always been there, observing. I hate being observed. I’ve read your physics books at least a dozen times, but I don’t think anything in those books can tell me how one can stand to exist in the way you do. There must be something you’re not telling me, something you’ve got to hide.
Despite this, I still feel the need to trust you. Maybe it’s because I’ve noticed how different you actually are. How out of place. No one else can really understand, not even Booker. He’s scared. So am I.
What are we, Mr. Lutece?
——Elizabeth
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