My love,

Happy Valentine's Day! I am writing to you from a wonderland
of snow and ice, far from the campfire, under a cold starry
sky, from whence biting winds blow. The boys are asleep, the
whiskey is gone, and the fire long out. I couldn't sleep; I
kept imagining your fingers running up and down my back,
mine in your hair. So here I am, pen in shaking hand, my
mind, as always, with you.

We are so much alike, you and I, that it scares me. Or maybe
it's the differences? We talked about this so much, again
and again, and you say you understand. But sometimes I'm not
sure even I do. I'm eighteen years older than you, eighteen
years of waiting; and I'm not so young anymore. I want to
fuck you again, hear us both scream, like a single being
never divided. The boys freaked out when I showed them your
picture, but they quickly turned jealous. We look so good
together, as good as you will look like with our next clone.
How is the fresh little scamp? Give him a kiss from me, but
not on the lips! I'm already jealous.

With love,
Your original,
Valentine's Day 2081