I just wanted to say sorry about the other night, at the wedding. I didn’t mean to accost you like that and didn’t mean to ruin your evening or anything. I must’ve had a bit much to drink* – and I think I probably overreacted to things, too.

Still, thanks for being there and being as patient as you were. If it’s not too much to ask: I’d appreciate if you didn’t mention that conversation to anyone else.

Thank you, and

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Ruining my evening, because before you showed up I was clearly having the time of my life? Anyway, you don't need to apologize. And obviously I'm not going to say anything to anyone. I'm a bit offended you even felt the need to say that, to be honest. I know how these things are.

Anyway, really, don't mention it. I'm sorry you didn't have anyone better than me to talk to about it.

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Alright, that’s fair. I can’t have made things any easier for you either, though, so. (I wish I could say something like ‘I’m usually more fun at parties’, but frankly that’s not even true.)

And I’m sorry, I didn’t think you would And I didn’t mean any offence, but I guess I don’t know how these things go? I’m not that used to talking that way.

But you were right, anyway, it did help a bit. So – if you won’t hear sorry – at least let me say thanks again. I probably do owe you a drink for that. Or five.

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Well, I like gin.

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This is probably presumptuous of me, and feel free to completely ignore this letter if it's off-base, but I wanted to write because — well, frankly because the holidays can be terrible sometimes for people like us, and I hope you're holding out. Being surrounded by family can feel pretty lonely, and then looking back at the year you've had — We're almost through them, at any rate. Eight days to 1893, and a clean start.

Happy Christmas.

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Thanks, actually. I do hate the holidays, a bit. Anyway, Merry Christmas to you too.

My family’s alright, though. There aren’t too many of us, at least, and the younger ones will find the holidays fun no matter what – I think some people have it a lot worse. Still, getting an owl was a nice excuse to have half a minute to myself in the house, which never hurts. How are yours going – are you surviving?

Eight days to a clean start. Sounds easy, when you put it like that.

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Surviving, yeah. I hate the holidays, too. I didn't used to, but

I know it sounds easier on paper than in real life, but — it's still just eight days, however it feels.

1892 was a better year for me than 1891 was, so here's hoping 1893 continues the trend. Same for you — every year just a little better than the last one.

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