To: Kim From: Jude
There’s no point in trying to contact me. I’ve not changed my mind. I don’t wish to see you. I prefer books to people. (It was cold. I drew the circle.)
Nobody noticed me before I won the lottery. Nobody cared for me except Barry. I hated my boss and enjoyed telling him I was chucking in my job. When news leaked out, suddenly friends wanted to know me. I heard from my parents for the first time in 13 years. I was snowed under by charitable requests. I bought a flat in a tower block in another city. (I cut bricks of ice ready to use.)
I ordered furniture and household stuff online and had it delivered. I moved in with my clothes and books. I will not tell anyone the address. (I laid the first circle of ice blocks.)
I built shelves for my books and cupboard for the tins of food. I began to receive circulars and other stuff so I sealed up the letter box. (I built another two circular rows.)
The rent and all bills are paid by direct debit – easy with online banking. My vicious ex-wife, who tortured me over the divorce, is hounding me. When I’ve finished this communication to you, I will change my e-mail address. (The next row of ice arched inwards. The circumference was smaller.)
I was sad when Barry got knocked down by that van. You should have taken more care of him. You won’t be able to trace me. I’ve disconnected the landline and got a new mobile. No-one has the number. I use it only for ordering pizzas. I’ve arranged other food to be delivered once a fortnight. (The roof has been constructed with decreasing circles.)
My books are arranged on the shelves. As I read them, I can order more from Amazon. My self-help books have pride of place: you’ll remember ‘How to play Chess’ and ‘How to make your Fortune’. The only present you ever gave me: ‘How to collect Stamps’ will be thrown away. (The final small circle of ice bricks is completed. No entrance tunnel will be built so there will be no way in or out.)
As I can manage with just a computer, I may stop using my mobile. I might write short books as there’s plenty of time. I have something to teach the world. Titles might include: ‘How to win the Lottery’, ‘How to insulate your Life’, or ‘How to protect your Privacy’. Regrettably, I might become famous. (Today I put the capstone in place, sealing up my igloo).
I am safe. I heave a sigh of relief. No-one can contact me. I hope I won’t regret this brave decision to turn my back on everything. I may never be able to impart to others the wisdom contained in: ‘How to tell everyone to go to Hell’. I miss Barry – but even dogs make demands. I shall not miss you. (Goodbye.)