The letters she never sent saved her marriage

Antoinette is eighty-one. When anger at her husband boiled over, she sat down and wrote long letters — every complaint, every insult. Then she put them in a drawer. The next morning she read them again and, almost every time, threw them away. "Half of it was my exhaustion," she said. "The other half was a story I had written by myself." A letter becomes an invoice when sent, and medicine when burned.