Dear Keefe,
It's me.
Foster.
It's been a mess since you left.
Fitz has acted on his anger, and I see Biana's tear stained cheeks as we pass through the hallways.
Even Dex is upset.
His pranks and elixirs have been left on his desk, untouched.
And me?
I don't what to feel.
Grief, worry, or anger.
It's like the color and joy of the world left with you.
Why did you have to leave us?
Leave me?
I stay hidden inside my room, hoping that you'll burst into my room, shouting some cheesy joke and twirling me around the room as we burst into giggles.
But I know better.
Come back, Keefe. I miss you.
Come back.
Love,
Foster
