06/23/2026
This is a letter to Richard Coscia, my landlord. I know your wife reads this post, so please pass it along to him.
Dear Richard,
I am writing to let you know that I forgive you. I know that, deep down, you are a good person. I know that inside, you are God-fearing; you say so often, and I believe you. I know you have lost your trust in humanity, and that you believe most people in your life are unkind—that they seek to manipulate you, steal from you, or threaten your livelihood.
But I am here to tell you that I am not that person. I am not here to harm you or take from you; I was always here to help you. I thought I had done so by creating something truly made with love in your space, your building. I put my heart and soul into your building. I spent thousands upon thousands ensuring that every detail was designed with longevity and consideration for future tenants. I laid down real wood floors. I expanded the ceilings, giving the space light and air. I painted the exterior a bright red because, in my culture, red symbolizes good luck and fortune. I also found you two wonderful subtenants—Sommer and Molly—who I hope will be able to stay in your building for years to come, prospering just as Sommer and I have.
I am not here to fight you. I don't want to fight you. But I will if I have to. And let me tell you, if I am forced to, I will fight with all my might, the way my people fought the war in Vietnam. I will not quit; I will fight to the end. I will carry that same spirit, I will build tunnels around obstacles, and I will win. I know this because I never choose to fight—but when I do, I never lose.
So please, Richard, I am offering you a white flag. Let's not fight. Let me go. Choose peace. Enjoy the rest of your life, and allow me to enjoy the rest of this summer. Let me go peacefully, with my property, and with the deposit I have earned through the respect and love I have given to your space and building.
I am a good person. I know you are a good person. Let's make amends.
Nhi
