He couldn't get the drawer clear. Always tricky to open, it jammed now on old wooden runners.
It was time to clear out. Clear off his desk. Move on again.
He couldn't see his way clear of this. Couldn't see how to solve the problem.
Holding a carton with his few belongings, he picked up his letter telling her everything, what he was, what was in his heart, and placed it carefully on her desk.
Time to clear away from her too - to clear her from his soul.
But even as he thought this, he knew he could not.
