I’ve been alive a bit longer than you. And dead a lot longer than that. I’ve seen things you couldn’t imagine, and done things I’d prefer you didn’t. Don’t exactly have a reputation for being a thinker. I follow my blood, which doesn’t exactly rush in the direction of my brain. So I make a lot of mistakes. A lot of wrong bloody calls. 100 plus years, and there’s only one thing I’ve ever been sure of. You. I’m not asking for anything. When I say I love you, it’s not because I want you, or that I can’t have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love who you are, what you do, how you try. I’ve seen your kindness and you’re strength. I’ve seen the best and the worst of you and I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You’re a hell of a woman. You’re the one.