Quality of Life

Isla seemed even more stumped as she actually saw the letter. It really did seem she hadn't written it...but then who had? Sam had gone through his acquaintances who knew of his problems and had crossed them all out. Could it be that he didn't know one of them as well as he had thought? The question of who had sent it consumed his thoughts as he followed Isla and then waited, perching on the edge of a chair and looking at the ground with his fingers steepled. He didn't like the idea of not knowing. It meant that someone was keeping secrets from him, for a reason that he couldn't think of. Secrets meant bad things, always did. He stared at the item in Isla's hands as soon as she entered, wanting desperately to reach out and take it right away. "Yes. I r-read it. But I don't care. Anything. I can handle anything. For the end of th-this. Please just do what you have to." Sam held out his wrists, not sure what was involved in this process but wanting to get it started right away. SAMUEL How could a night so frozen Be so scalding hot? How can a morning this mild Be so raw?