Strangers,
hiring.

Find the love letter my mother wrote in 1971 and never sent. It's in a book in her house.

She told me, once, drunk, that she wrote it. She said she hid it in "one of the books". She has 2,400 books. I'm in her house this month, alone, settling the estate. I need a partner. Two days, methodical, every spine, every dust jacket. Photograph it if you find it. Do not read it.