Excerpt: Corinthians

My name is now fairly famous- I’ve had relative success in publishing my stories and reports since the events of this particular tale transpired. As such, many of you who are reading this letter have probably heard of me, and are hopefully familiar with my work. This is not one of my novels; it is not an anecdote fabricated to pay for my apartment, or my addiction to many of the finer things in life. This is a story I have wanted to tell for a very long time, and my two children are finally old enough to understand exactly how their father fell in love.
I have made every effort to keeps the lessons of hindsight far away from these pages, attempting to recreate the thoughts I had thirty years ago without commentary from the present. This is, as any writer could tell you, a nearly impossible task, so I beg your forgiveness if any of my current opinions make their way through my subconscious into the words my pen puts on paper, or if I spoil the ending before we even begin. I’ve been known to do that on occasion, and I could certainly understand how that may upset someone who wanted to enjoy where the pages took them.
A final disclaimer: this is not some record of the early life of a tortured artist. This is not an epic tale of how I came to be the dark, cynical writer far too commonly seen today. I would like to think I have remained true to myself, uncorrupted by the hopelessness oozing out of every literary pore of society. This story has no purpose, no deeper meaning for you to uncover, no cleverly devised plot mechanisms. In fact, it has been entirely all too difficult to pick exactly where I should begin and conclude my narrative.
It is simply a love story, nothing more nor less.