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[November 20, 2022]
New Jersey, Princeton
Enid,
The arrival of today’s letter surprises me to say the least. My calculations of you being cuffed were supposed to go on for 3 more days. No matter, I should know now not to underestimate you. Your tenacious attitude for fairness was what gave me the idea that a tenacious paper would be suitable revenge. In fact, I entertained the possibility that you would read it with two hands. I would apologize, perhaps offer Thing to give you a hand.
That is what I would write if you had actually written anything to me.
The possibility of theft from the post office was not off the table, however your envelope came sealed and intact. The writing on it too is clearly yours (again, in those horrid colorfully glossy ink, of course it sparkles when the sun reflects off it just right and it gives me a delicious shudder to the spine in fear it will jump out and sing an obnoxious birthday song again.) so the mailmen could not have replaced it with a new envelope. Unless they’ve perfected the forgery of your handwriting (which without a clear motive is absurd) then there is no other reason for an empty envelope.
(Unless they do have reasons to steal my letter. I will put a pin on this theory, if it does become the only outcome- Surely article 308 section A would not be violated, especially if the address has our estate. How dare someone tamper with an Addams’ property?)
My other deduction was that the true letter here is the envelope itself. I had unfolded the paper, peeling its adhesive in careful succession yet found no clues. After a few frustrating minutes of inspection, Pugsley suggested invisible ink at play. (and while I did not appreciate the insinuation that I would not have thought of it myself, at the time it felt like I was struck with the lightning of my homemade electric chair- and in my haste, I had forgotten to threaten him.) I held it over Grandmama’s cauldron but no matter what flame we used, no secret revealed itself. UV light also did not work, despite Thing’s insistence.
No sign of a hidden message, no sign of theft, and no letter. All I’m given is an empty envelope with your name on it.
Perhaps this is what you intended? To urge my doubtful nature and coax it out. To go mad with my theories, diverting my original plan on revenge to solving this mystery you have concocted. A wild goose chase in my own home. You are truly vile, Enid.
(I do not dislike it. It’s far more nefarious than what my so-called stalker has done.)
You are aware from our previous correspondence that my letters arrive swiftly, almost immediately the next day- you shall receive it at the first signs of dawn after I receive yours. You do well with what you have, and whatever you give me I will keep. This time it is true. So do not hold back on me, Enid. Be it more flashy ink or horrendous glitter, I will take whatever mark you give me.
Your silence is delectable torture,
W.A.