There are so many letters in the box, which one to choose, which one might work, have the effect, make something happen. She has been sifting through them, noticing how many say the same thing over and over, trying to find the right words, the magic words. Half finished, many of them alcohol inspired rambles. In spite of feeling it’s important, there is no handwritten one, she can’t quite pinpoint the reason for that.
The realisation has dawned that handwritten or typewritten, this won’t work, something else needs to happen, a different strategy, a different way through the defences. She needs a sledge hammer, a wrecking ball, dynamite. While her innate sense of decency rails against the idea to she comes up with, it seems probable it will work and, in the end, that is now all that matters.
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