Dear Boris,
I've spent years, dahlink - YEARS - trying to get over the fact that you are gone, and here I am, banging my head against the padded walls, wondering when you'll return.
Every day those stupid lumps of men I call Moose & Squirrel (they'll never know why! Never!) come and feed me with spoons because the forks puncture them so (I swear I didn't mean to have fun without you, dahlink, so I only sort of smiled).
I keep insisting that the Moose & Squirrel are intercepting these missives I send to Pottsylvania in hopes that you have returned home, and they keep insisting there is no such place. I told them to Shurrup they mouths, but they wouldn't listen, dahlink!
Years go by, dahlink, and here I am, and you are gone, and what shall I do? I am nothing, NOTHING without my Boris!
Sighs of longing! Dahlink!
Natasha.