““Dear Benjamin, “You should know that I’m not sorry either. I’m not sorry that I want to do these things with you. I’m not sorry that I want you so much I can’t think of anything but you. But most of all, I’m not sorry that I love you. I love you. I love you.” I pause and listen to the low scratch of a pencil on paper as it carries all of my feelings to him, my one. Before I finish, to the heavenly sound of him sighing with pleasure. “Yours always, Eleanor.””
