This Is How You Lose the Time War

by Amal El-Mohtar

Well, Mrs. Leavitt’s Guide to Etiquette and Correspondence (London, Gooseneck Press, Strand 61) suggests I should end by recapitulating my letter’s main thrust, whatever that means, so, here goes: Ha-ha, Blueser.

PLEASEEE RED 😭😭

I want flowers from Cephalus and diamonds from Neptune, and I want to scorch the thousand earths between us to see what blooms from the ash, so we can discover it hand in hand, content in context, intelligible only to each other. I want to meet you in every place I have loved. I don’t know how it’s done between such as us, Red. But I can’t wait to find out together. Love, Blue

Dearest, deepest Blue— At the end as at the start, and through all the in-betweens, I love you. Red