The envelope arrived on a Thursday in April, forwarded from the *Guardian* to the flat in Bloomsbury with a handwritten note from the paper's letters editor that said: *Mr. Morgan—this arrived for you. Given the subject matter, I thought you might want to see it directly. —J.* Ed opened it in the kitchen, over James's shoulder, because by then they had stopped keeping secrets from each other about the things that mattered. The envelope was plain, the paper inside was lined and cheap, the handwr...