The 26th day of September 2023

Madame,

I’m reminded this morning of an unexpected walk in the park we once shared. I remember the light of the early evening sun dancing through your hair. There was a slight chill on the breeze and you wore my overcoat. I confess I was most enraptured with the garment it as it carried your perfume for several days afterwards. I walk In the light with my arm over your shoulder this morning, and yours around my waist.

I have no business to attend anywhere near this park, though I cannot help myself but wander through at every opportunity, hoping to summon memories that are still as fresh as the morning. While these details delight me they are mere decorations on that which matters most, how it felt to be in your company.

Another day beckons. I am a reluctant participant in my own new regimen of physical maintenance. It is an ill fit with my impulsive disposition, though some small parts of it appear to be sticking. I’m resolved to regard this as a victory, in spite of my shortcomings. The battle against my waistline is more one of attrition, than a singular big push.

It is unclear what occupies our friends, the errant couple. After my fleeting glimpse of them in the park yesterday, I heard they returned to bed mid-morning and have not been spied since. Though I find their behaviour uncouth in the extreme, I am heartened by their presence. They are free in ways I can only imagine.

I hope the land of my birth is forgiving.

Yours, A.