One night in a good mood is poured
the ink on the letter over, and instead of breaking it added a postscript: “In
proof of my love I send you my tears. “ Sometimes tired to mourn, mocking
from their own folly. Six times changed the post office clerk, and six times won
their complicity. All I could think of was to resign. However, he seemed
insensitive to their delirium was like writing one.
A morning wind, for the tenth year, awoke the certainty that he
I was naked in his bed.

He gave it to the employee
mail, which was the Friday afternoon to embroider with her to take the letters, and
was convinced that this terminal would be the last outlet of his agony. but
no response. Thereafter it was no longer aware of what he wrote, or who
He wrote for certain, but continued to write without quarter for seventeen years.
A half day of August, while she embroidered with her friends, she felt someone coming
at the door. He did not look to see who it was. ”He was fat and he began to
hair fall, and I needed glasses to see close-he said. But he was, damn,
he was! ”She was frightened because he knew he was seeing so diminished as she
I was watching him and not think I had so much love INS DE as she can bear.
His shirt was soaked with sweat, as he had first seen at the fair, and
wearing the same belt and same tattered leather saddlebags with silver ornaments.
Brad took a step forward, without addressing the other astonished embroiderers,and laid the
saddlebags on the sewing machine.
Well,’ he said, here I am.
He had the suitcase of clothing to stay, and another suitcase as with almost two thousand
letters she had written. They were ordered by their dates, sewn packets
with colored ribbons, and all unopened.