Dear Mr. B— You’re going to think that what I did was your fault. It wasn’t. And this room didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, it saved my life for a long time. You created a place for me to go and helped me fill it with words and people I could trust. It was the kindest, most generous thing anyone has ever done for me. When I was inside this room, I was happy. If I could have captured how I felt on Mondays and Thursdays, and carried it around in my pocket for later use, I would have. Believe me, I tried. You don’t owe me anything more. But I hope you’ll consider honoring this last request.
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