forges handwriting

“The exercise is good for you,” I told him. “Sorry if you got lonely without me—I know I’m the sun that gives meaning to your worthless existence, but I sometimes get distracted by more important things.”

Adam shook his head slowly.

“You know, a few students sent me messages asking what it was like to be your friend,” He informed me.

“No need to explain,” I assured him, holding up a hand to forestall his thanks. “I know how much joy it brings to ever moment of your existence. I got the letter.”

Adam paused and looked at me.

“The letter?” He asked. “What letter?”

“The letter thanking me for being such a great friend and all around extraordinary human being,” I said, drawing it from my inventory and presenting it to him. “I know you have a hard time putting stuff like that into words, so I wrote it for you.”

He was silent for a moment, skimming the contents of the letter quickly.

“I would never say any of this to another human being,” He stated firmly, looking up at me with a flat look. “Especially not you.”

I shrugged at him.

“You say that, but it’s in your handwriting,” I answered, tone and demeanor helpless.