The letter to Wren took four attempts.
The first three I wrote and read back and found wanting — not dishonest, but insufficient. Too careful. The specific tone of someone managing what they put on the page because the page might be seen by the wrong person, which was the instinct of a rogue and was no longer my situation and was taking time to unlearn.
The fourth one I wrote the way my father had written to me.
Quickly. With the forward slant of someone writing before they could stop themselves.
*Wren,*
*I read your letter three times. The first time I read it I had to put it down because it landed somewhere I wasn't prepared for. The second time I read it I understood what you were trying to say. The third time I understood what it cost you to say it.*
*You said you were seventeen
