Loaz stares a hole through the letter, turning it over, reading and rereading it over and over. It has to be a joke, right?
It's his handwriting. Who else writes like this?
"I give you full permission gto haunt the hell outta me," they'd once told him. They never intended their joke to be taken literally.
No. No, they're just trying to find connections. This is some sick joke junk mail. Worryingly accurate sick joke mail. Loaz is grieving; grief messes with you bad. This doesn't mean anything.
...
But what if...
No. This is a murder tactic!
"God, but what if!" Loaz grumble-shouts. The edges of the card crumple at the edges in their grip.
Silent Hill. Had they ever even been there? Heard of the place?
Do they want to know?
After hours of frustrated deliberation, Loaz caves. As much as they'd refused to admit it to themself, they were fascinated by the letter. They're honestly more interested in how someone could fake something like this so perfectly; they kinda want to meet the guy just for the heck of it.
And if it is a murder tactic, they'll find someone to haunt the hell out of themself!
Or, maybe it is real, and they're about to make one of the best stupid decisions of their life.
Loaz shoves the now thoroughly crumpled letter into their pocket.
"Worth a try, eh?"
