To the wife of Dimitri Dalca,
Through my negligence I have killed your husband. No words I could ever write would make up for that. I doubt there is anything I could do that would make up for that. I doubt you could forgive me, and I do not ask you to.
I am a poor man. What little wealth I have I leave with this letter. I hope it helps in some small way, although I understand it does nothing to alleviate the wrong I have done.
I do not plan to submit myself to the authorities. I have many reasons for this none of which I believe will or should satisfy you. Please keep this letter, one day I hope to put my name to it.
(Hanif signed the letter “penitent” in Halfling. I substituted Welsh since there’s no actual halfling language.)