The Imperfect's Journal: 1

May 19th, 2066

I spent the day helping out where I could--cleaning rooms, mostly. A bus will be taking everyone to the airport in two days, so I just need to wait until then.

I've been writing a letter to Sara. It will likely get to her before I do. Her cottage is far enough away from the Renewer's point of impact that there's a small chance she'll still be there in a week or so. A small chance is enough.

The letter is short, simply detailing that I love her and will see her soon. I'm asking her to meet me at her sister's home in Queensland, since it's far from the expanding fog created by the Renewer.

That fog, according to the news, is destroying everything it touches. People who breathe it in are becoming terribly ill and are expected to die within a few weeks of inhaling whatever it is that comprises the fog.

I'm preparing for the possibility that Sara won't receive my letter. I'm also trying to prepare for the possibility that she's dead, but I just can't wrap my head around that.

Maybe this will be easier if I just forget her. I could tear out the pages I've written about her, toss her letter in a fire, and shred the photos of her that I took from home. If I stop reminding myself about her, she'll eventually fade away (if my disease does its job correctly).

I can't, though. I can't forget her. She's remembering me, I'm sure. So I should do the same.

I'll get back to bed once my letter is finished and ready to be sent with tomorrow's mail truck. Many people are trying to reach loved ones in other countries--even those in Australia--so there's a mail truck that comes through every other day. I hope my letter gets to her. I hope I see her face, soon. We can figure out what comes next once we're holding one another. I think the insanity of what's happening will fade away as soon as her arms are around me and mine are around her.

Jess is still sharing a room with me. I think we're becoming friends, though we won't be seeing one another again once we're on separate planes. It's unfortunate, especially since I'll probably forget about her before long.