Dear Thomas, this is the first letter I've written that I can remember. Obviously, I don't know if I wrote any before the Maze, but if it's not the first, it'll surely be the last. I want you to know that I'm not afraid, at least not of dying, but rather of forgetting, of getting lost with the virus. That's what scares me. So every night I say your names out loud: Alby, Winston, Chuck... I repeat them over and over like a prayer... and all the memories come flooding back. It's the details, like the sunbeams on the Glade, just before disappearing behind the walls. I remember the taste of the frying pan food. I never thought I'd miss it so much. And I remember you. I remember when you arrived in the box, a scared rookie who didn't even remember his own name. From the moment you ran into the Maze, I knew I'd follow you anywhere, and I did. We all did. If I could do it all again, I would, and I wouldn't change a thing. I hope that when you look back on this in a few years, you can say the same. The future is in your hands now, Tommy. I know you'll find a way. Do the right thing, because you always have. Take care of everyone for me, and take care of yourself too. You deserve to be happy.
Thanks for being my friend.
Goodbye, Tommy.
Newt