That spoon and that magazine are (were) my two good things and the sum total of all my worldly possessions save for this ragged overcoat (which is not even mine alone, as I must share it with transient vermin and a persistent plague of lice) and my shoe. Even this note you see is not mine but becomes yours as soon as I cease to write it. As such I am afraid to give it over as it were, having given you more inheritance than I could give a host of heirs (ha! impossible now after their handiwork. I have kept my secret word, but unfortunately not my sex) and having given you all this - by leaving you the note too I will have absolutely nothing.