Somewhere, in the bedroom of a house in a lazy neighbourhood in a suburb where all the houses looked the same and nothing much happened at all, an old man sat down at a desk. The man was tall and skinny with a shock of white hair and wrinkles around the corners of his eyes. The way he eased himself into the chair slowly was a sign he was getting old; his back had begun to ache and his joints were still, but he still always had a smile ready and a stupid joke on the tip of his tongue. Some things would never change.

He settled himself in the chair, opening the desk drawer to pull out a sheet of paper and a ballpoint pen. He began to write, his neat, slanted cursive almost dancing across the page.

Dear Sophie,

I know you're probably happy where you are, sleeping on clouds with angels or whatever it is you do up there, but I miss you. I have to admit, I wasn't expecting how empty it would feel without you. How lonely the house feels, and how the only sound is the creaking of doors opening and the sounds of my footsteps on the floor. I don't have anybody to talk to, and it feels like there's a cold void that just gets bigger and colder every time I try to bridge the gap. I've always loved you, Sophie, but I didn't realize how much I relied on you until it was too late. This past year without you has seemed like an eternity. Whoever invented heart attacks, I'm going to kill them. Just you wait.

But dearest Sophie, I do have some exciting news for you. I'm a grandfather now. And you're a grandmother. Our Alvina had her firstborn two days ago. They named her Elizabeth, after you. I was lucky enough to meet her yesterday, and she looks just like you. Same golden-brown eyes and same crinkle between her eyebrows when she's upset. I know you would be so proud to see her. Someday you'll get to meet her.

Did you know that Fitz and Linh moved back home? They bought a new place about 10 minutes from here, and it's been life-saving to have them close by. Sometimes when I am feeling especially lonely I visit with them. I think they miss you too. We all do. Even Dex, the world-famous scientist. Yes, he's world-famous. I knew he had that kind of potential.

As for Biana and Tam? They still live on the other side of the world, but I know Fitz and Linh call them frequently. I do, occasionally, but not as often as the others. I feel kind of bad, but I was never as close with either of them as I was with Fitz. Do you remember the good old days when we were younger and Tam and I hated each other? I would call him Bangs Boy and he used to hate it. We've long since gotten past that, though.

And do you remember playing Base Quest with Biana, Fitz and I? Back in the days when our bodies were young and we could run around all day without being tired? Now I can barely walk across the house without my joints acting up. And I'm seriously considering moving to a house that doesn't have stairs. Those things are terrible. But I couldn't. This house holds too many memories of you, and no matter how bad my joints are, I can't let go of that. Still, I'm getting on in age myself. I don't think it will be long before I get to see you again.

Sometimes, I wonder if you're still waiting for me like you promised you would or if you forgot about me the second you saw angels and that kind of crap. But then I remember that you're Sophie Elizabeth Foster, my Sophie, and that after living with you for more than fifty years, I know you better than that. I will find you up there, somehow. I'll do whatever it takes. I can't wait to see you again, but until the time comes, I must wait. Until then, just remember that I love you and that I will never stop loving you. I'll be fine. Just don't worry about me.

Love,

The one and only,

Keefe Sencen

The old man finished his letter with something of a wistful, faraway look in his eyes and he slowly stood up from the desk. Painstakingly crossing the bedroom to the window, he set to work at removing the screen, pulling away the mesh to let in a brisk wind. It was the kind of wind that was chilly, but only enough to send a quick shiver through the man's sweatered body. Then he released his grip on his letter, letting the wind whisk it away from the house and up, up into the clouds.