COME BACK, FRED! PLEASE COME BACK! It hurts so much to know that you're not here. I want to talk to you again, so I get correspondence, not so that a waste a bit of parchment with ink and tears. Mum says I need to stop writing these, because it's "giving me a false sense of security". Well she's wrong. I write these because all I want is to speak to you again. She wouldn't know. She's never had to lose a twin.
I've never realized until now how sleepy I am. I haven't slept in months and it's starting to catch up to me. Ron just happened to point out how skinny I am too. "George, you need to eat, you look like a twig!" really is the way to greet your brother in the morning...
I'm going to have to stop writing now. My wrist hurts and I can barelly see through the tears.