To my dearest and most beloved Odette, How they have slandered you. How they have insulted and belittled and harmed you. You who have done nothing but love me for me. You who makes me laugh and write poor poetry. You who held on to me when my brother died and let me weep before picking me off the ground. I do not understand them—those who hate you. They explain, and still, I cannot understand them. They cannot be doing it for my sake because they have to see how happy I was and am with you. I do not know what to do. My heart wants to run away with you. But every other part of me is glued here.
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