There are 25 words in the note she slipped under my door; I counted them. 26 if you count the name she signed the note with. 27 if you count my name on the envelope.
With scissors, I cut out each word and place them in alphabetical order, then rearrange them by the number of letters in each word, to develop for once a clear understanding of what she could have meant, what she was trying to tell me.
There were many ties, of course, including four occurrences of the same four-letter word beginning with “l.” This word also of course occurred four times in the “alphabetical” list. The only other word that occurred four times was “don’t.”
I’m making other rearrangements, now; the first two were lies.