Below is an abridged letter from Henry to Alex, as read out by CMQ at obsessed fest:
17 May 2022
My love,
Well done completing your first year of law school, or as you and your underslept compatriots call it: 1L. I think I speak for us both when I say how glad I am that the year is done, but, my god, what a wonder to watch you in command of your powers. Your tenacity and grit are exceeded only by that wicked, insatiable mind of yours. I've never doubted this course for you, but I am certain now more than ever, that you will be the stuff of nightmares for your opposing counsel. We are tremendously lucky to have you on the side of good.
I'm sorry I couldn't be with you to celebrate the last of your exams. I hope the flowers will suffice.
While doing research at the library recently, I came across an 1857 compendium of Victorian flower language and predictably became obsessed with it. Ranunculus is said to mean, 'I am dazzled by your charms', so naturally, you require this. I know we've discussed this already, and you've assured me that your classmates will take you out and get you too pissed to even remember about me, but I fear I am troubled by a more selfish prospect: my absence from your memory at such an important moment.
At some point in the early days, I resigned myself to witnessing your best from afar. I imagined reading your accomplishments in the news, clasping glass champange flutes from the back corners of halls in spotlights in which you stood. At my most masochistic, I would conjure the cool shadow of your gaze as I shook your hand, a state guest at your wedding. I am not yet so accostomed to our new reality to have forgotten that feeling. I want to be with you always; present and part of everything.
As I packed to leave, I foudn myself reminiscing on the letters we used to write. I wonder if you might indulge me in writing each other again. Proper paper and ink letters. We could keep them in the safe in my closet after reading, no one else would ever know they exist until we drop dead of old age and our great-grandchildren published it posthumously to rapturous praise, of course.
What do you say, my dear scholar? The return address on this envelope is Shaan's personal inbox, so anything sent there comes directly to me by his hand. Might you spare your sweetheart a missive or two from your cluttered desk? It could even be a bit cheeky if you wanted. It could be anything, so long as it was from you. I could use the entertainment where I'm going.
Remember to look after yourself darling. I'll know if you don't.
Yours incessantly,
Henry
