Back to a simpler and meaner time

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Earlier in the week, back in New York City, I went to P.J. Clarke’s for lunch with my beautiful friend, Awilda.
This is one of the oldest pubs in the city and they have a sweet little gimmick: They give everyone postcards and will mail them for free. Apparently this is what people in old-time New York did when texting was very expensive.
I had told Awilda that the woman subletting my apartment is dying for me to fall in love somewhere far far away and never come back. Awilda decided I would more likely get a fatal illness than fall in love so she wrote a postcard to my address about my “terrible disease.”
That’s fine. By now, her fianc√© should be receiving a postcard and learning about her prison past.

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