I want you to choose. You get to choose because this dream will be as much yours as it is mine. I want you to help me craft it with your bare hands. I want you to help me make my dreams come true. Will you do that for me, Franky? I know you will, so you get to choose. Surprise me.’” He looked at me through damp eyes before reading the letter’s closing, as if he’d read it so many times it was now etched onto his brain. “‘Love, Leelee Bear.’”
