Greetings! Wish you were here!

Dear Carla,

I don't want the cappuccino maker anymore. I've been telling you for years. We never use it and if we do the nozzle that is supposed to foam the milk foams the entire kitchen and little smatterings of milk-foam stick to places you don't discover for two months and it takes a knife or a fork to clean it up. We're getting rid of that thing. I'm really fucking serious. And that's right, I sent this on a postcard. You like the picture of the Empress Hotel on the front? It's great. A nice aerial shot on a perfect Victorian summer day. Too bad we've never been there for tea.
The thing just sits there taking up valuable vegetable chopping and meal preparation space. Remember that time I put it in the cupboard with the rest of the barely used electrical devices: waffle machine, panini machine, the actual coffee machine? Was it out of spite that you put it back on the counter in the way of the spice rack? Am I that terrible of a person?
I hope you read this when it's raining and you're depressed and on your period and listening to sad music, the kind of music that makes you want to cry, producing a little quivering tear on your cheek, the kind of tear that makes you think “poor me” and then “oh, poor you” when you think it back to yourself in some witty, poetic dialogue that someone might actually care about.
By the way, I'm in Mexico with your sister.

XOXO,
Brent