Dear Jacob

Letter 4

Dear Jacob,

I'm really sorry if this is all scruffy and smudged. I'm currently sheltering from the rain, in the dark. But hiding the letter under a tree doesn't shelter it from my tears...

Basically, Ruth found out about my letters. She saw my writing, and asked to see what it was. I didn't tell her Jacob. But it was too late. She saw I was writing to you, and started yelling. "He's gone!" she screamed over my tears, her brown eyes like lasers, burning through the paper. I can still hear her now, in my head. She carried on yelling "He's gone" until she began crying alongside me. "He's gone..." she whispered and I ran. I ran into the gathering darkness of the wintery Friday evening.

So I'm sat, writing. Writing to you is the only way I have left of being able to talk about you. Everyone else tries to tell me you will never come back. You are gone. But I know, when you read these letters, and hear how difficult it is for us all, you will come straight back. But then, I guess it will never be the same. Not after what I did...

Earlier today I was sat on our table in that coffee/book shop. The charity one that raised money for children in Africa or someplace. You always scoured the books, picking up new ones, buying as many as you could. Even if you already owned them. You couldn't bear to think about the children worse off than you.

That's what I loved. The sound of you flicking through the books, occasionally turning to glace at me, preoccupied by the thought of another adventure in your hands. The smell of paper and coffee, a smell I always associated with you and me. The sight of the towering piles of books, ready to fall over when you bumped into them after finding a new tale and racing back to show me, with an infantile grin on your face.

Then I would buy more coffee, you would sit down, and together we would read. Or, you would read to me. I never always enjoyed the books, but the sound of your voice always made them 1000x better. The fact you threw yourself into whatever you were reading. You made reading interesting, Jacob. You brought the stories to life. And I will never tire of your voice. I just wish I could hear you read these letters out right now...

Love, Emma