I’m throwing away that letter of yours. I found it, but I realize that it mustn’t have been meant for me. I did everything that it said. I tried to do as much as you would let me. Always at an arm’s length. That’s the distance you need to go to be in love, an arm’s length. Now I realize that it was just a distraction, false advertisement. I didn’t read the fine print, because there wasn’t any. There were no promises, no guarantees. Only clauses that benefitted you. Things that only you would gain from. It was a realm of possibility, endless possibilities.