Hi.
Ah.. I am not quite sure how to respond to that. You don’t know how significant your words are for me, to know that I still am your heart and soul. Mon cherie, so are you. I love you. Always have, always will. In the present, the past and future. You know that as well as I do. Your words mend my wounds and fuel my soul.
How do I find you, dear? Here I am, sitting in a crumbling present and watching you go farther and farther away. 17th century. The scientific age. Loius XIV! You know I’m all for history. Write back, Athena. Write back about everything you see. Are you in the Americas? An effluent Europe? I can only imagine. Gosh! That is very romantic.
I’m glad you’re okay, and I’m glad we’re still able to keep in touch, Athena. My health is deteriorating. Doctors are of the opinion that only my desires are keeping me alive at this point. Yes. I have been infected. I don’t have long to live, Athena. A week, tops.
See the world, record your experiences, and leave those for the world to read and enjoy, Athena. Treasure these letters, write about us. Bury it at the site of the old house. We’ll uncover it when we demolish that, in 2018. Must make for a very interesting read.
I’m sorry I’m not able to tell you everything, Athena. My hands are shivering again, the doctor wants me back on the ventilator. Miss you. Badly.
Umm, will you be able to come save me from this horrific reality, Athena? Will you take me back with you? I want to die, peacefully, dressed in period attire, in your arms.
Not in some emergency room, with all these painful instruments hurting me, going in and out of consciousness as doctors and nurses prick and prod.
I love you.
Good bye, in case I don’t get a chance to write back.
Always,
Lou.