Lost Letters

The First Letter

Dear Friday,

Bernie told me what happened to you.

I honestly didn't believe it until he explained it further.

Of course.

My flimsy, futile little Friday.

How could you do this to yourself?

Hasn't Highcrest taught you a few things about being cautious?

Haven't I?

I suppose I can't blame you. How were you supposed to know that one of your classmates had terrorist connections and would steal your project and use it to plan an attack?

You were just doing your work.

I won't dwell on that topic too much so moving on.

Bella was born a few months back. Bella is the name of Bernie and my mother's child.

Your cousin.

I'd send you a photo of her but mum's broken the printer somehow while printing out dairy-free tiramisu recipes.

So I will do my best to merely describe her to you.

She's small (like every newborn) round cheeks, blue eyes, and light brown hair.

To be honest she looks like a mini-cloned version of you. Although different.

You would be saying by now "Is the great Ian Wainscott crooning over a little baby?"

But you're not, so I'm simply imagining it.

From your favourite nemesis,

𝐼𝒶𝓃 W𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒸𝑜𝓉𝓉