We live on a space station. You took the graduation exam and you met the secret requirements for psychic ability.

You're part of the important team that plans the economy and media. But we were going to start a family and make

custom pants for people that like that sort of thing. I'm looking for you in places I know you're not. Like the bank,

like your old apartment. The people that moved in are nice, but I think they're weirded out by my over often presence.

Anyway, will the 3rd quarter be profitable? Hahaha, what the hell is your life like now? I can't really process it

without knowing. I bet it's exciting enough to distract you from missing me. I'm jealous of that. Because it's like

all my blood is gone. I'm a vampire now, everybody, these interactions are little meals, tasteless dust food, no

blood in my body. I'm just walking around. Around and around... ok. I'll get over it. What else is there to do?

The sky. I'm training to be an astrojockey. I'll ride commets in the McDonalds derby. You'll know if I'm going to win.

Because you're psychic and I miss you. I hate trying to keep in touch. You'll know there's nothing worth telling,

because you knew me when I was trying. It doesn't take balance to ride commets. You just do the math to compensate for

vibrations, but they make you do it on the fly, so it's sporting. I'm pretty good, but not the best. I took the name

Belly Dragon and I wear a luchadora mask. I'm a cult favorite, you've probably seen me, did you know it was me?