Your clothes hugged you tight and I wondered how the muscles on your back would look, but I closed the door on your rainstruck face in the middle of the night and I said, “I have things to do.” I felt like my heart had sunk to my stomach and was being dissolved in its acid. You were so sad, you would have done anything for me, for a cup of hot chocolate and a listening ear. We trembled for different reasons.
Yes, of course I hate myself. There is no reason you would even open this letter.