“But I told him no. Never a ‘Dear Astrid.’ I’ll always be yours, babe! Love! Sweet! But I think this frilly letter gives me a chance to, like I don’t know, climb a tall tree; try for a little distance for a little while. But I’ll climb down come December. And I want us to be able to tell each other everything. Yes, even any new lovers—boy, girl, whatever. I’ll swallow hard, but I’ll want to hear.
“Well, then that makes this sort of a formal declaration of …well, not independence; never that (or always that—to be independent like you)… no, maybe just a thoughtful, patient, brief, and (yes!) painful suspension.
“There. I did it. But I’m not over you, love. Never. The taste and feel of your lips can fade. (Haven’s yet but I know they might.) But there’s the you that lasts—the laugh, the ser
