Dear.
I think you will remember the lunch in the diner I didn't want to go to. I didn't tell you why. It wouldn't have made any sense. It had to do with all the mirrors inside and the sick blue lighting. That plus you looking at me was too much. I knew you wouldn't understand and I knew to shut up about it. That was the first day I knew I couldn't tell you things. You keep asking when the trouble started. Well that was the end.
You can keep my things. I don't want them more than you don't want them. The books you coveted - they're yours. You'll toss them out and feel vindicated. You left something at my house and I won't tell you what it is. You won't miss it for years. Try not to let it trouble you.
I think it was always an apology you were after. I know it was. Goodbye.
