He went home this afternoon to get some things he needed, I can't keep dressing him up in a dead mans shirts for eternity. It was getting awkward. When he left I decided to write my mother a letter, and sat down with a huge glas of wine to write. I didn't get very far, my mind was occupied by him but I tried and actualy got several sentences written down before he got home and took the paper, folded it gently into an airplane and set its course out my window.
Say goodbye to your guilt love, he told me. I guess it was the right thing to do.