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‘I wanted to write this letter to you ages ago. But I held back because of fear. I just want to wish you good health and happiness. I want to tell you that I think of you from time to time and wonder if you are doing okay. You hid so much from me these past few years that this letter seems inappropriate. I couldn’t even address it to you. What do I call you? your name is too formal. We are far past cutesy nicknames. So I have left it unaddressed. I doubt I will sign off with a name too. We were always beyond names. Now, we are nowhere. My handwriting might speak to you, though. Or the cigarette smoke on this letter. You didn’t know too many who smoked back then. But a lot has changed, hasn’t it? You probably would have to reread this letter numerous times before you realise it is me. I doubt you can recollect how I look, too. Occasionally, I remember like it was yesterday. Other days, I am aware it was many moons ago.

Today, I won’t bore you further. I just hope you are well. If you have trouble recollecting who this could be, maybe you are in a better place than me. Let me offer you a piece of advice then. Even if it is unsolicited. Tear this letter up into tiny pieces and throw it away. I am sure you will feel great.

November 24, 2013’

He reread the letter. Several times later, he tore it up and threw it away. He didn’t want to be reminded of her. But he had to admit, she was right. He felt great.

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