I look down and my hands are shaking. I wait to spontaneously combust, like Knight Polonus Vorstius of Italy, who burst into flame after drinking too much wine. When I don’t, I write: Dear M. If Jack is angry, it’s because of you and us. The only thing that’s going to help him is removing us completely. Maybe I should stop being so selfish. If I really loved you, I would end my marriage or at least come clean to my wife. I owe her that. Maybe I owe you that too. Maybe our love is the biggest love there’s ever been, although I doubt it. But whatever, I just need to stop being such a pussy. No
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