Laura,

The sweater is from a small town in Argentina, at the base of the Andes mountains. I bought it for you a few weeks ago, on my birthday. That I bought you something on my own birthday when I consistently forget your own- I hope you don´t find this fact too perturbing.

I chose the sweater for its authenticity- made by artisans, from local wool. It´s warm, I know, because I had to wear it a few times in the mountains. I hope being worn by a pallid american lawyer doesn´t smear its authenticity in your eyes. Ideally, I´d have negotiated for the sweater from a roadside stand, but, in truth, it was in a regular store on a street corner, with dressing rooms, pushy saleswomen, and a "se acepta visa" sign on the door.

I remember that time in college, when you said in front of all those people that you didn´t much like The Beatles. I was shocked that you´d say something like that, in front of all your friends. But later I came to appreciate that about you; your comfort with your opinions, in your skin. Please tell me you´re sleeping well.

I read the book you gave me, and would like to talk to you about it. Shades of Hemingway, really? I enjoyed the book, but failed to see any similarities...

At last, however, one request: please don´t let Jeremy wear the sweater. I assume it won´t fit him, so perhaps this is a non-issue. Nevertheless, I´m wan to think of that rat bastard besmirching such an innocent thing.