Dear Hector, I find it hard to put my thoughts into sentences, but I must do it or I think I will go mad. Hector, I love you. I count the hours when I cannot see you and treasure every word you speak to me. I thought myself happy to simply bask in your presence, but when we embraced I knew the true extent of joy. I want nothing more than to be in your arms again and to kiss you. If what we did was improper, then I confess myself a wretched and foul creature, because I want nothing more than to touch you again. Should you want me only for one hour or one day, I would gladly take it. I would
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