He rewrote it once.
Not because the first version was wrong. Because the first version had been written the night after Dante told him about the deleted email, and some of what he had written then had been replaced by things he understood more clearly now. He took it out of the desk drawer on a Thursday evening and read it from beginning to end and then set it aside and started again.
He wrote it in one hour. He had learned that too many drafts produced something managed, and managed was the wrong thing to send. He used the pen that had become the one he used for things that mattered.
He did not write long.
He started with the notebook. He wrote that he had found it on her nightstand after she left, that he had read it, that he understood now that each entry was a record of a woman mak
