Day Twenty-Four:
Sarah asked me about the note today. I don’t know why she’s kept quiet for so long. When she asked I just couldn’t hold in the tears, but I reluctantly handed her the crumpled up piece of paper. Is it weird that I carry it around with me? It’s like a fire burning a hole in my pocket, reminding me of the pain everywhere I go, but I just can’t let it go. It’s one of the last remaining things I have of you.