There are things I try not to talk about. I wouldn't want to give her those worries.

[Some things you share and fix. Other things you share and they sit there between you, growing larger, uglier, all teeth and claw. (Sometimes there are worries enough. And she likes her life here. Likes digging in her heels to fight to make it better even if she could throttle people with her exhaustion.)]

You're welcome. If you'll excuse me, I have some letters it's long past time I gave to where I always should have sent them to. [The sea is by her window. Why did she keep them all under her floorboards instead of giving them to it after all this time?]