Dear Andrew,
I know what you mean now. When you told me you were sorry about what is to come. I forgive you, even though I can't stand the feeling of you not in our bed. I know you had to leave but I wish you would've given me a proper goodbye before. It's the least you could afford me.
I don't know what is to come from the future, what is to become of the city when you are gone. I want you to know that I love you. I know I've said this a million times by now, but my love for you transcends anything I've felt before. You are not only my husband. You are my other half. My drinking buddy. My smoking buddy. My best friend.
If you haven't caught on yet, this isn't a letter you will be receiving from me. Some part of me hopes you never receive it. As I said, I know nothing of the future. And if I die before you come back to me, I want you to know this.
I still believe in us. You are, and will always be, my greatest lover.
Yours,
Gwelurin Vaell'aer
Gwelurin Vaell'aer
