Evanston Inn: Don't give up the ghost

I say this as a friend, so take it in the spirit it's given.

Yes, yes, we are all responsible for our own lives and our own choices. But honey, since you started keeping company with that feller of yours, that development corporation,



well, let me cut to the skinny. You look like shit. Bandaids everywhere, all black-and-blue and beat up. It hurts every time I drive by. Of course I've tried knocking, but you're too proud to answer.



Anyway, I suppose you'd claim the usual excuses. "I walked into a door," or "I fell down the stairs."

I hope I'm wrong, Sugar. But the way I see it, this guy, he's going to let you fall in the next good windstorm, without even a backward glance.

Later, he'll play to the crowd, pretend shock and sorrow; sob, "But I loved her!"

After the excavation, internment, and a brief period of mourning, the papers will quote him, "One can't grieve forever. Onward and upward."

Within six months we'll have five floors of beige and orange condos.

"So all my words, however true,
might sing you through a thousand Junes.
And no one will ever know that you,
were beauty for an afternoon." FSF