I wrote the letter in only one draft.
You might think this is common, but considering the weight of the situation, I very much wanted an hour to form a few lines to really put to Watson what I was going through, to explain to him how wonderful the last couple of weeks had been even to one who faced death.
But instead of writing something like that, I waffled on about his wife and luck and the blasted case, hardly able to bear scribbling a sentence about my friend,
who would read it blurry eyed,
who would keep it in his pocket then in a drawer,
who would memorize it
who would never throw it away no matter how distant and trite the words cameā¦
and frame the criminal evidence so it haunted me three years later.
After I came back he took it off the wall, but I knew he'd hidden it.
