twenty three. the truman show

twenty three˚༺⋆♱⋆༻˚↳ the truman show ↲

IT WAS ANOTHER DREAM. One about wisps of blonde hair. Determined blue eyes. Then, the bullet. The small ball of iron hastening through the hospital halls, into the girls head, forcing my eyes open.

I heard once that we woke from these dreams, because our brains didn't know anything of death. There was no absolute afterlife. It was the one mystery scientists would never be able to solve. We knew not of death. We would never—not until we ourselves reached the end.

My eyes adjusted in the darkness, and I quietly propped myself on my elbows, taking a shaken breath. All the others were asleep in their bags on the floor. I was sandwiched between Carl and Noah—neither of which conscious. But, even if they were, I wouldn't have consoled in them. None of us talked about Beth anymore. Not because we forgot of her, but because it was simply too painful.

Still, the dreams haunted me. It was always her that I saw when I slept. Sometimes, we were back in that elevator bank. Others, we were at the exchange. The one that had ended in her demise. No matter what, she never came home with us. It was like her soul was tied to Grady Memorial.

I couldn't help but remember the brain matter on the hospital floor.

Sick.

Oh, how unbearably sick I felt.

Courtesy of the crevice of moonlight shining past the window, I found my way over the nestle of sleeping bags. Bringing myself up and through the hallway, the floor of the small bathroom became a new home for the current churning in my gut. I propped myself against the porcelain seat, my eyelids scrunching together to try and make it through the utter torment provoking my insides and scorching my throat.

For a moment, I wished that we were all outside the walls again. That we could go back to the wilderness, and acknowledge our pain. Alexandria gave us reason to not discuss the horrors we'd been through. . .but I couldn't take the ache of holding it in.

I felt as if I were stuck in The Truman Show. Alexandria was the meticulously crafted set. Only, unlike Truman, I knew this life was a giant hoax—I just had no way out. Everything and everyone here were fictional. I didn't want what I was being offered. I didn't fit into those ways, anymore.

This wasn't reality. Outside the gates—that was what life was supposed to look like, now.

All at once, I was wrapped in the conundrum, and in one fast paced motion, the rise of burning stomach acid, and the small amount of food in my stomach escaped past my lips, into the reflecting pool before me. It was a repetitive motion. My insides curled in on themselves, scooping away at my already concave stomach, ridding me of the nutrients I had been in desperate need of.

The relief after was soothing. The nausea faded, and I was left with the cold marble against my body, lowering the temperature of my heated skin. For a while, I did nothing but lay with my legs pulled into my chest, sporting a fetal position. Once enough strength returned to my limbs, I brought myself to the sink, turning the nozzle. Rushing water creaked through the pipes, pouring into my palms. I splashed the liquid on my face, then cupped my hands once again, bringing the water to my dried lips to rinse my mouth. After, I managed to quietly return to the living space we all shared.

After lying down, I found slumber hard to come by. My eyes failed to stay shut, flickering to the ceiling to instead watch the inexplainable optical dots dance through the air. Something about the shapes were comforting. If I tried hard enough to look for them, they were always there. Floating in the sky, dancing at my feet. It seemed they made up everything, like how atoms did.

Maybe half an hour passed before my eyes became bored, and I gave up on sleeping entirely. I carefully sat up, made my way to the front door, put on my boots, and departed silently into the night. Outside was chilly. It was nice, though. The air was refreshing opposed to the stuffy, hot house. We'd all been sleeping downstairs the past few days, not confident enough in Alexandria to split apart into two houses yet.

With my arms folded across my chest, I walked down the empty street. It was odd to see it this way, but I liked it better. It was quiet. Not even the crickets seemed brave enough to chirp at this time of night. Maybe they were scared of what lay beyond the walls. Even the bugs had seemed to adapt to the new world.

Even the moon was at peace tonight. It was joined by a heap of glowing stars. The bright constellations made me wonder if walkers attempted to reach them, at nightfall. Did they walk after the light until they disappeared from the midnight sky? Would they continue this cycle until the stars themselves burned out?

The universe was made of a weak fabric. That's why it was so easy to split at its seams, in the first place. It could be that this was only the first action, while the thread slowly unraveled. The stars could be next. Or, the moon. First, though, it would be us. All of us.

While we're here, moon, don't leave just yet. Let the sun come up again, and take its place in the darkness. Grasp the stars, and treat them with care. All until, we are gone. Then maybe, we would join you as stardust in the end.

Wrapped in the thought of the night sky, I failed to notice the man sitting comfortably on his porch, holding a glowing cigarette. A long thread of quiet gray swirled from the tobacco product, as he exhaled a stronger amount. He smelled like menthol, and alcohol.

"I know you."

I turned my head, now seeing the man I had walked past without notice.

"Sorry?" I said, stopping.

He put the cigarette to his mouth again. "You were at our house today."

I then realized I was stopped in front of Ron's house. The streets could be a puzzle at times, and even more so in the dark. I guessed I'd been walking for a while.

"Right." I gripped my arms tighter, as a breeze passed over. "I don't think we met."

"No, but he told me about you. And that boy." His tone seemed off. It was meant to be friendly, but sounded the opposite. He must have been one of the few who disliked newcomers. "I'm Pete."

"Oh," He was drunk. The slurred words—the way he was slumped in his chair. I'd seen it before. "Thanks for letting us come over."

"Mh-m." He hummed out. "Anytime."

"Okay." I agreed, turning and beginning to start my walk back to the house.

"Ron's a sensitive boy." Pete started talking again, as If I were still standing right there. It made me stop. "His heart is in the right place."

I carried a look of confusion, realizing he was talking to me. His cigarette was smushed in the ashtray beside his seat, replaced by his hand, pushing in the tab of his canned beer.

"Makes me loose my temper sometimes, though. All those fragile feelings of his."

I looked down to my shoes. "I have to head home, sir."

I remembered him now. He'd been in his lazy boy, turned toward the TV, when I'd entered Ron's home. I wasn't sure how he'd recognized me, as I would have never been able to pinpoint this man as Ron's father.

"Sure, you do that."

Nodding my head, I spared him one last glance before hurrying back to the house. This time, I payed more attention to the dark sidelines. I wasn't sure if being inside the walls were safer than being out there. Not with strange men like Pete lurking in the shadows. He had been getting drunk on his porch, in the late hours of the night. Stopped me to talk with him. I'd known men like him before. My father was one of them.

As I walked up onto the steps, ready to turn in for the last few hours of night, I paused. The rocking chair set in front of the exterior wall was no longer vacant.

"It's cold." The boy said, stating the obvious.

I carried myself onto the porch, stopping in front of him. "Why are you out here?"

I watched his breath create a cloud as it escaped his lips. He was right—it was cold. My linen nightwear was definitely not substantial for this midnight air.

"I woke up to the sound of the door closing," His voice sounded strained, and tired. "I've been waiting to make sure you were alright."

I came to his side, leaning the bony portion of my back against the wall. "Sorry, I got sick. Needed some air."

The chair softly creaked as he turned himself to face me better. The tattered American flag mounted on the house flapped as wind rushed past it. I pushed an unruly strand of hair from my face, bringing my bottom lip in for a moment so that I could wet the crackling skin.

"Did you have another dream?" He asked.

He'd caught on, it seemed. Noticed how often I woke in the middle of the night, my skin gleaming, lungs fighting a little extra hard for air. Maybe he'd noticed the sunken circles beneath my eyes—the ones that made me appear more dead than alive.

I bit at the uneven skin of my lip, before releasing it so that I could respond. "Yeah, but I'm better now. The walk helped."

He slowly nodded, his body relaxing further into the seat. He blinked like he was fighting exhaustion, his eyes pointed up to the sky above as if he were reading each constellation. He adjusted the pressure on his heel, letting his chair rock back.

I brought myself to sit on the front steps, hugging onto my knees to provide myself a bit of warmth. Although I resided at least a foot away from him, I felt his presence linger.

"What do you think of this all?" He asked, his tone softening.

I hummed out a sound of thought, placing my hand below my jaw. "What are we supposed to think of this?"  

I heard the weight of his foot shift again. The chair let out another soft sigh. It was like unintentional music. The kind that traveled up your neck and left your temples tingling.

"I don't care about how it's supposed to feel. I want to know how you see it."

I spoke with a gentle tone. "It's good for Judith. If we let her grow up here, she'll never know what it's like to suffer. She won't have to be afraid."

I didn't look back at him. But if I had, I'd imagined he'd have a smile on his lips.

"Is it good for you?" He breathed out, seeming to struggle with this sentence.

I tapped the hard toe of my boot on the white wooden step. "Yes. But—sometimes I'm not the best at accepting what's good for me."

I heard him exhale. Although impossible, I thought I felt the heat from his throat skim against my back. When briefly turning, I realized it was only a phantom sense. He was still in the rocking chair, resting his elbows on his knees so that he could slightly lean forward.

"Maybe, this is it. Maybe, we won."

The game we decided to play at Gabriel's church. Not even so much of a game, but a goal we decided upon. Carl said to me, that we would 'just know' once we got there, but sometimes finding that line was near impossible. So, he was right. This was a second chance. Redemption, you could call it, for all the lost time. All the lost people. It was our choice whether or not we took it up. 

"Call it a tie?"

▬ ▬ ▬

In the early afternoon, I felt even more like Truman. I remembered there being a point in the show where he realized his entire life was a lie, which, ultimately lead to his escape. Now, It was my turn to leave Alexandria's perfect little world behind. I had been given a job. One that allowed me to go through the gates, and remember what reality looked like.

Something that would surely be sobering, but it was what I needed.

Finishing my second braid as I ran out the door, Noah met me on the lawn, and we started our walk to the Monroe's. We were both in proper attire, covered in protective layering. In the morning, Deanna had come to assign our placements. Both Noah, Tara, Glenn, and I had been asked to join the supply run team. Apparently the woman had deemed us fit. She'd claimed to have chosen the individuals who seemed capable enough to protect themselves, and be loyal to their team.

I assumed it was because I'd told her in my interview that I wasn't afraid to kill. That in dire cases, it was just second nature.

Carl certainly didn't like it. Not when it involved him sitting on the sidelines, either absolutely no control. The assignment had already lead to a tense conversation over breakfast. His voice had raised a bit too high when demanding I ask Deanna to assign me something else, or join him in the morning to help with the younger children's school time.

After I told him that I was happy with the job, he'd left me alone in the kitchen. I hadn't seen or spoken to the boy since. The whole thing had set us back. We hadn't fought in a long while. Not like that. I feared for our friendship. Wondered if now that we were in a safe-haven where we weren't fighting for our lives, he would no longer want my company. Maybe he'd rather hang out with Mikey and Ron—and Enid. Maybe he preferred them.

As we approached the residence, I let go of the painful thought. I still had people. Noah was one of the best friends imaginable. Now that we worked together, we'd have plenty of time to be in each other's presence. Neither Tara or Glenn had questioned my abilities, or Noah's. Only Carl had done that. The boy who was supposed to encourage me, and have confidence in me. It was like he thought I was too weak. That I wasn't cut out for it, and that the years I'd spent in the wilderness, fighting to survive, meant nothing.

It felt like he'd expected me to walk through the gates, and suddenly be this domesticated animal.

But I couldn't.

"Glenn, Tara, Cyn, Noah?" The man walking asked, his finger pointing to each one of us one by one as he stopped.

Noah offered a friendly smile towards the two strangers, as the rest of us stayed silent.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Aiden." His head turned towards the curly haired man staring beside him. "You met Nicholas pulling gate duty."

Nicholas nodded. "Hey."

Glenn pulled his sleeves up a bit. "You're Deanna's son?"

"That's right! I hear you got experience making supply runs."

I connected eye contact with the shy curly-haired one. He instantly looked away.

"I saw your pantry. You guys seem to do pretty well." Glenn said.

Aiden shifted his weight onto his front foot. "Yeah, well, had some training before this. ROTC. Was nearing lieutenant when this shit blew in."

"My dad did ROTC." Noah told the man.

"He didn't make it?"

"Nah."

I placed my hand on Noah's shoulder, giving it a quick shake in an attempt to comfort the boy. He gave me a small smile in return.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry a lot these days." Aiden said. "Come on, I'll show you the ropes."

He began to walk, but Tara stopped him. "We're doing a run today?

He twisted back around, his hand on his side.

"Just a dry run. Show you the terrain outside the walls, see how you do. Weigh each others sack a little, you know?"

Today would be nothing but a quick scope-out. The real deal wouldn't come for a while. These men probably thought it important to show us how they did things, and see how we did them. Deanna had surely told them we were capable. Perhaps they wanted to prove that they were, too.

"No, I don't. But cool." She folded her arms.

I looked to Aiden. "What about weapons. Guns, knifes?"

He pointed his finger at me, smiling. "Oh, yeah. We pulled out some sweet-ass biscuits for today."

Nicholas reached in his bag. What he pulled out was. . .to put it lightly. . .unimpressive. They were just pistols, around 352 mag. Compared to the weapons we had used on the road, these felt a little less significant. Daryl had carried a crossbow that nearly weighed as much as my leg. Michonne had a katana strapped to her twenty-four-seven. Abraham passed out AR's like candy. And we were being given pistols.

Regardless, it was all the same amount of deadly. I wasn't complaining. They weren't asking us to use butter-knives. At least, I knew my way around the weapon. There would be no learning curve. I was confident with a handheld.

While following Aiden and his brother towards the gates, I crossed paths with Daryl. He was in conversation with Aaron, before noticing me with the others. A look crossed his face, and he broke from the conversation, coming up along my side.

"You don't gotta' go out there to prove yourself."

I squinted. "I know that—this is the job Deanna asked me to do."

"You don't need a job. You're like twelve."

He was three years off.

I spared a look back at him. "So? You're like, what, seventy?"

"Do I look seventy to you? Do I need to be wearing sunscreen that bad?"

"Depends. Do I look twelve?"

"Nah." He said.

I had finally reached the gate, and at last, I fully turned at him, starting to walk backwards through the barrier. "I appreciate the concern but it's not necessary."

He shook his head, holding his middle finger out towards me. "I don't have no 'concern'. I'm just making sure this place ain't a child labor trap."

"I could legally be working at fifteen." I suppressed a laugh.

"Alright—" His hands went up in defeat, before showing his middle finger with a grin. "Jus' don't die out there."

I returned the same action. "If I do, and I come back, you're first on my hit-list."

That was it, before the gates closed the two of us off from one another. I had fallen slightly behind, but now jogged ahead, ending alongside Noah. We walked on nothing but dirt and road until we broke off towards the forest edge. From that point forward, we were engulfed within the Virginian greenery, tediously traveling through the towering roots of oak. Few birds chirped and fluttered through the branches, but nothing else was out here.

"We break into two groups when we step outside our vehicle." Aiden began telling us about the way things they did things on runs. "If shit hits, we fire a flare. One group gets the other."

"Good system." Noah said, scanning the area ahead of us.

"It is. Still, you're standing here because we lost four people last month."

We hadn't even lost that many with Bob, B̶e̶t̶h̶, and Tyreese combined. And those deaths had been spread out within days. Not one single run. Loosing four members at once seemed pretty hard to do.

"What happened?" Glenn asked.

Aiden looked back at us. "We were on a run, roamers came out, they didn't follow the system."

System. What an odd way to put it.

"They were good people." Nicholas added.

Aiden nodded solemnly. "They were. They were just scared. I can seem like a hard-ass and a douchebag, but someone's got to call the ball around here. And that someone is me."

I stood with my gun hanging loose in my hand. I bent one knee to hold myself in place on the uneven terrain. I found myself entirely bored. This was one big man-splaining event.

"If you're on this crew, you do exactly as I say."

I swatted a mosquito from my upper arm, careful not to exhale too loud. This guy's authoritative voice pissed me off. He was acting like a drill sergeant, but he certainly didn't have the credentials. Not after loosing four of his people. He needed to humble himself a tad.

"Sorry you lost your people." Tara offered.

I could tell just about everyone was tired of Nicholas and Aiden talking. We all thought we'd be doing something much more worth our time. I could almost say I was wrong about being outdoors, and that this job was just as boring as the others would be.

"Appreciate it."

We continued walking forward. The plot we approached was more level, but the grass was still overgrown. We were completely tucked away by a blanket of trees. I prayed that these men were trustworthy. Nobody from Alexandria would be able to hear our commotion from out here.

This time, Nicholas spoke, pointing outward. "Managed to snag one of the dead-heads that took them down. Strung it up there."

"What?" Glenn exclaimed, stopping at the end of the trail to try and look.

"Why?" I spoke for the first time, now noticing the back side of the tree they were referring to.

"We have a little pregame ritual. Get our heads on straight."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. They'd actually strung up a walker who had bitten one of their group-mates. A walker, who had no sense of right or wrong. It was simply a creature with no moral compass. They should have put it down.

"To remind us what we're up against."

The tree was now in full view. My heart stuttered. There wasn't a walker. Just a bloodied noose made of chain, and guts. Pieces of pinched skin. The ground below showed footprints, and kicked up dust. If we could still see the shoe marks, it meant the thing had escaped not too long ago. Last nights breeze would have leveled the gravel.

Nicholas gripped his handgun. "Son of a bitch!"

"Help me find it." Aiden instructed us.

"Bloods still wet, it's nearby." The other man raised his fingers to his mouth, blowing out an extremely loud whistle.

"What the hell?" I took a step toward Nicholas.

"Hey— hey, hey." Glenn stopped me from getting any closer, then put his hands out to attempt to calm things down. "It's gone."

"So what? It took down one of our friends! It's nearby, and we're not letting it go." The cockiest one, Aiden, spoke up.

Nicholas whistled again, and for a moment, I thought about backhanding the son-of-a-bitch. I took a deep breath, the grip on my pistol becoming tighter as I backed up.

A hiss sounded out. The dead—only one from the sound of it. I twisted immediately, the barrel of my gun pointed at the ground until I could get a proper look at the thing. When my eyes focused on it, I thought it might have been the ugliest one I'd ever seen. Half of its skin was stripped off like it had gone through a cheese grater. I could tell it had been tied up for a while—his ribs were protruding and he smelled of horrible decay.

It snarled in total hunger as Nicholas clapped his hands at the walker, taunting it so that it would come his way.

I raised my gun. So did Noah. I was nearly pulling the trigger when Nicholas shouted not to shoot. I furrowed my brows, and kept the weapon raised. Aiden reached out grabbed its arms as if he were arresting the thing. Obviously, this didn't work in the way he intended. The rotten flesh tore between his grip, and the dead shed its skin. It turned itself around on Aiden, and Nicholas backed away.

So much for a system. These two couldn't even protect each other. It was obvious how the other four met their demise. These guys were pussies.

Tara approached with her knife, and Aiden saw this as an opportunity. He pushed the walker off him, sending it straight toward her. She faltered back, fighting to get a grip on the dead. It twisted to face her, its teeth snapping near her neck.

One of the boys were shouting at her to get a grip on it.

Fuck that.

Being closest to Tara, I was first to come close to the walker, my barrel meeting its temple. Without so much as a second thought, I fired the weapon and the corpse instantly dropped.

"What the hell?!" Aiden yelled.

"Yeah, what the hell?" Tara defended me.

Glenn walked forward at him. "You almost got her killed!"

Aiden got closer, in his face. "I told you all to stay back!"

I walked forward, my gun still raised. This time, it was pointing at him. I didn't think about the rationality of it. And, it didn't matter how much bigger the man was. Anyone would freeze at the threat. That was exactly why I did it.

"Pull that shit again, and I'll blow your brain clean out your skull." I told him, looking him dead in the eye.

The yelling ceased as I lowered my weapon. I holstered it, then pivoted. Glenn squeezed my shoulder, and I followed his lead in walking away. After getting far enough from the two lunatics, I slowed to come to Tara's side and made sure she was okay.

"You shouldn't have done that." She told me. However, her expression greatly contrasted her words. She was giving me a thankful smile.

I squeezed her hand. "My gun was on safety."

Noah turned to look back. I saw a heavy exhale depress Glenn's shoulders. The two of them looked genuinely relived.

"Thank God," Noah muttered, like he'd been afraid I lost all my marbles.

Our trip back seemed shorter. Maybe that was because we'd practically jogged all the way to the gates. We wanted nothing to do with Aiden or Nicholas. We needed to get back before either of them got any more brilliant ideas.

As the gates rolled open, and we made our way through, I looked back to realize they had almost caught up. I fought an eyeroll. They were on our trail, hot.

"You four need new gigs." Aiden shouted, his breath uneven as if he weren't in shape. "You're not ready for runs yet."

Glenn sneered. "Yeah, pretty sure you got that backwards."

We kept walking. None of us wanted to entertain him. We should have been letting Deanna know what happened, though, I wasn't sure that was a good idea. Aiden was her son. We couldn't walk into their home, guns blazing, and tell her that he had lost his mind.

"Hey!" Aiden sped up.

When Glenn didn't respond, he ran to grab the fabric of my group-mates shirt. They faced one another. My head twisted back. There were citizens in the streets. They were stopped to watch. Aiden was causing a commotion.

"Look, we got a way of doing things around here,"

"You tied up walkers." Glenn protested back.

"It killed our friend! Look, i'm not having this conversation. You obey my orders out there."

Prick.

"Well, then, we're just as screwed as your last run crew." Glenn replied plainly.

I shifted uncomfortably. This was not a good look for our first week in Alexandria. But, there was no stopping this. In a twisted way, it might have been better for people to know how crazy these two really were.

A figure came up beside me. Daryl. I exchanged a quick glance with him. I hoped my expression conveyed that things had not gone well, in the slightest.

Aiden stepped closer to Glenn. He was nearly in his face. "Say that again."

"No, back off Aiden." Tara attempted at breaking the feud.

Aiden pushed back on Glenn's chest. Glenn kept his head high.

"Come on man," Noah now tried, "Just take a step back."

Aiden pushed him harder now. Daryl took a step past me, ready. Glenn attempted to put a cap on Aiden's anger, but Aiden stood his ground.

"Aiden! What is going on?" Deanna shouted.

There was no hiding it. Aiden was exposing himself, which made our job a lot easier. We wouldn't have to out them ourselves anymore.

He stepped back. "This guy's got a problem with how we do things. And, the little girl pulled a gun on me. Pointed it at my head! Why did you let these people in?"

Glenn shrugged. "Because, we actually know what we're doing out there. She was defending us, from you."

Aiden's hand went straight towards Glenn, but he dodged it entirely. Instead, Glenn's balled up fist came back at the mans face, knocking him straight to the ground.

"Aiden, no! That's enough!" Deanna shouted.

Nicholas now went for Glenn. Daryl pinned him down within the blink of an eye.

"Woah, woah! Hey!" Rick was now running through the gates, pulling Daryl from the man.

My eyes caught on Carl then. Near the gates. He must have been outside with his Dad, which told me that he was a total hypocrite. I was quick in looking away. This wasn't the time.

Everyone was quiet now—their hands completely to themselves. Nobody moved. Except, Daryl, who Rick was still blocking from coming back at Nicholas. We all looked at one another. Took in the scene.

"I want everyone to hear me, okay?" The woman raised her voice. "Rick and his people are part of the community now. In all ways. As equals. Understood?"

Enid walked through the gates now. Had she been outside with Carl? I'd thought myself to be the only one she'd taken past the walls. She had made me swear my secrecy. I guessed It hadn't been that confidential.

"Understood." Aiden said quietly.

The fucker was smiling.

I now noticed the tremor in my hands. The after-effect of the rage I'd been feeling since Aiden had pushed that dead one into Tara. The anger that had made me raise my weapon to another's head. Even if the safety had been on, I'd still done it. To  all the citizens who heard him declare I'd pulled a gun on him—It would appear I had murderous intentions.

I felt ill, but not in the way I'd been last night. I was filled with so much rage that I didn't know how to act. It was past the point of wanting violence. It was so extreme that it climbed into my throat, and I thought that If I stayed at the scene much longer, I would start crying in front of all these strangers. I took steps back, retreating into the crowd. Some of the bystanders completely moved out of my way like they were afraid of what I'd do to them with the pistol on my hip.

I began towards the armory to turn back in the gun, but before I did so, I turned back one last time. I caught Aiden's gaze. His face was contorted in a smug look—one that I absolutely despised. I could tell exactly what he was trying to say: try something in front of all these people. Because, he thought he was safe in the crowd.

What came next was, to put it simply, an involuntary movement. My fingers moved to the handle of my holstered pistol, and he watched intently as they flexed, then ever-so-gently tapped against the firearm.

The look was wiped clean off his face.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · 4,760 words • 3:34am

so i saw this tiktok and it was talking ab how wattpad a/n's are always SO random and it made me cackle bc they really do be like: "sorry for the late update, my cat held my whole family for ransom and then a tsunami swept over my city and everyone died but me. anyways sorry this chapter is short!"

that's all!

sincerely yours,𝓜 ᥫ᭡.