Dear Reader,

I'm writing to you from the depths of my couch, where I've been stuck for three days. I've been trying to read this absurdly long book, but I'm not making progress. I've been drinking coffee, but I think I might need a transfusion.

As I'm sure you know, the plot is getting more convoluted by the hour. I'm not sure what's going on, but I'm sure it's going to get worse.

Yours in literary agony, The Reader

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