When Alex got locked up for killing the Cat-Lady, I sent him letters. He wrote back when he could, and he said it made all the other plennies jealous that he got mail from a devotchka. I viddied the news, all worried-like, whenever they mentioned him. My poor, dear Alex, in jail for a murder his vicious droogs made him commit!

"That will be enough," said the older officer. He tapped his companion on the shoulder and said softly, "It seems we have a sympathizer on our hands."

"Natasha," the younger man called out. "We have all we need from you, you're free to go."

An officer escorted her home.

I didn't viddy much of Alex when he got out of prison. It wasn't until a few years later that I finally ran into him. I had been walking down the street on a rainy London day when I saw his familiar litso.

"Alex?" I murmured, like in a dream.

It took him a while to recognize me. "Natasha?"

I ran over to him, and after a few seconds of a happy reunion, said, "Why don't we itty over to one of the old spots? Maybe the Korova?"

"No, no," he said. "I'm done with Milk-Plus. Would you like to come back to my flat? We have catching-up to do, my darling!" He gave me one of those typical "Alex" smiles. We went back to his apartment, where he lived all by himself, and govoreeted for a while. I realized that he didn't use any Nadsat, so I tried not to, either.

"I stopped with the ultraviolence," he said, staring at the floor as we sat on the settee in his living room. "I'm trying to find work now, but it's hard with a criminal record like mine."

"I thought we had fun," I replied.

"Fun? All that violence, the raping and killing, you thought it was fun?" He raised his voice. It was clear I angered him.

"I guess it was just a teenage phase."

"It makes me sick just thinking about it."

Soon, our reunion came to a bittersweet ending. And I was left to ponder what to do with my life. I had fallen in love with Alex all those years ago, but I knew he wouldn't want me now. After I had returned to my own flat, I found my old "sharp-droog" clothes, as I had called them, and threw them into the depths of my closet. If Alex could turn his life around, so could I.