The Love Letter

Jimmy Talon had been sitting around the house for ages, having fun with his HAM radio. He'd spent months assiduously studying the manual, trying to figure out the intricacies of it and how it worked. His wife didn't understand. "Only the nerds use HAM radios," she would say. Jimmy was unfazed by this apparent dislike of the small-ish metal box from his wife.
"Let's see," said Jimmy, sitting in his attic at his gigantic work table. He'd been thinking about this for years, and here it was, finally. He had his HAM radio certificate framed and posted on the vertical wall attached to the doorway. Now it was time to HAM it up and intercept.
Jimmy thought for a while about what he'd seen and heard during his journey. All of the adventures he could have. Would he stop a terror plot, find a plot of gold or park a submarine? Would he be hailed as a hero, feared as a magnate or marginalized as one of the few who could see (albeit with his ears)?
As Jimmy sat there, suddenly something caught his eye. It wasn't anything significant. Just a regular piece of paper, a dagger of white, flickering in the lightened room. The sun came in through the windows on either side of the attic, but there was ample artificial light as well. Jimmy saw that small piece of paper just sitting there. He had to go over and investigate. Something had to be done.
He temporarily abandoned his HAM radio and went for a closer look.
It was a not. Not just any note. Someone had written this with, of all things, a quill pen.
"What kind of idiot writes a not with a quill pen? This note couldn't be more than a few days old. The paper's brand new."
Then, as Jimmy read the cursive script of the writing, his heart began to sink. The note read:
"I can't stand this anymore. When will we finally be together? I want you more than I want anything in this world, and you know this. I've never been so happy to be yours, so happy to be wanted by a real man, not this nvb I'm married to. Just thinking about being cradled next to your rippling muscles makes me want to buy a tearaway bodice just for the occasion. Loving you, Brian, is the easiest thing now."
Jimmy was livid! Who was this woman, and how did she get into his house? He thought about it for a second, tears beginning to well up in his eyes.
"Franceska?" said Jimmy. "You don't love me anymore?"
He confronted his love, Franceska, about it later that evening. She didn't deny it. She said that she'd wanted to tell him, but that he was always too busy with his HAM and couldn't be bothered to listen to his own wife. Things were looking bleak.
"I'll always love you!" said Jimmy as Franceska drove away in Brian's Miata convertible. That's life!