The Adam West Conspiracy

Sam,

Your insight cuts straight to the marrow of this story! That symbiotic dread between Kevin and the vines... How it mirrors the tangling of past/present pain—is exactly the rot I hoped would feel unsettlingly alive. Thrilled the psychological horror hummed beneath the surface without drowning the fragile hope (purple potatoes do persist, after all). The line about purple grief? Born from watching a sunset while chemo dripped. Your fiancé sounds like a gem—tell them the potatoes and I say hi, and that endings are just compost for wilder growths. Thank you for sitting in this thorny garden with me.

—E.