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Dear Dana,
I saw Jeremy writing Louise a letter earlier and it, among other things,
inspired me. Despite the fact that I don't believe I've written an actual paper
letter of my own since sometime in the late 80s, I'm writing this one.
I'm not sure I actually remember the format of a real letter. It hardly matters;
you would never complain about the format (unless you could make fun of me for
it), and you'll never see this letter anyway. Regardless, I just spent twenty
minutes poking around in Word for proper format. You know me.
You know me.
I discovered something a week ago. Two somethings, and I should share both with
you. Not a month ago, I was lecturing you on "how attractive the truth can
be." I was right. The truth is what's best for you.
I can't. I'm so sorry.
The truth is, Dana, than neither Gordon nor I are the men you believe us to be.
What Gordon did, I firmly believe he did because he is a petty, stupid man who
has no understanding of who you really are and how deeply this would wound you.
What I did, I did knowing both those things.
I can't tell you one without telling you the other. I always thought I would do
anything for you, anything that was best for you. The best thing for you is for
me to tell you about Gordon. The best thing for you is to tell you how I know it
when you ask.
The best thing for you is to look you in the eye when you realize what I've done
to you.
I'm not capable of it.
I'm sorry. Dana, I'm sorry.
Love,
Casey
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