Sir.

Being one of those most unfortunate people who absorb the news they read or hear into their
soul, Arthur miller was unlike others – prone to moments of despair
where others may have instead have allowed the grim reality of the
surrounding world slide like their small change into the base of a
guilt filled collection pot into oblivion. This evening, where the
sky was so clear that the moon appeared printed on its inky navy
darkness rather than the distant celestial body it might have really
been and the wind coolly sidled down the the streets and alleys
barely rustling the disregarded plastic bags or fast food packaging
deposited by some departed artist of a urban ideal was one of those
times. The strange thing was that no one story would ever stand out
to him, never in his mind could he find the precise point at which
the switch had been pressed, the button flicked – his closest if
not only real friend, called it the gripping over awareness of the
human race. That was James, succinct, accurate, clear.

A car passed, the night
slipped on, time stole by and the dark deepened.