To the team,
By the time you find this, you'll have figured out where I got off to, I’m sure. You’re probably trying not to talk about it, trying to forget I was ever there if you can, and reading a letter from me isn’t helping matters. I don’t blame you for that; you’ve got no reason to think kindly of me. But regardless of how you feel about it, you need to know why I left. This letter isn’t an excuse; it’s a warning.
I don’t know specifics about your situations, but when Miss Pauling came to me with that clipboard of hers I wasn’t in a position to turn her down. I’d done something bad. Lost my temper, see. And without some kind of divine intervention I was looking at a long stay in the state penitentiary. The way I saw it, that purple truck was a godsend regardless of how shifty the whole business sounded.
Thing was, once I got here it didn’t seem any le