Dear Mr McGraw,
All my ideas are dried up. The desert drowns compared to my fruitlessness. I can no longer give you what you want. Knowing how one sided out relationship has been, it is with heavy heart that I must end it. Surely you will find some other Trollope to take my place, if you haven’t already, but can never look at myself or even put on a shoe without being reminded. At least you’ll never get another word from me.
GloPoWriMo asks for a letter.