My Dearest Annabelle,

My life or, if I may, existence has been rather unkind without you here with me.

The past few months, I have been missing you terribly. Of course I missed you quite an awful lot before. An excruciating lot really. But that was different. I was expecting my longing for you to fade, the hole in my chest to shrink.

Now, I know these emotions will never subside; it has been two years and still, the pain is here fresh and exploiting.

And so, my Belle, I have decided to write you. I can only hope that you will receive this letter.

This world I’m in is dark, but it is just like Earth was. Only there are much more tragedies here. Every day is a tragedy. Every day we each live through different scenarios, our biggest fears; everyday Belle, you lay in my arms, dying.

I don’t want to talk about death though. For I have relived the day of my death far too many times to count.

Instead, I want to comfort you with warmth as if I was right there with you. I want to whisper in your ear all the things I remember.

I remember your hair and how it rolled from your head like the waves of a sea; so painfully beautiful. I remember the day you laid on my chest, and your chocolate hair fanned out. We didn’t speak once and we didn’t have too. I love that about us, Belle. We liked the pin drop silence; we didn’t fear the unknown. We were, in so many words, infinite.

I remember your eyes; big and blue. A perfect reflection of the perfection, I called them. You always laughed at that, “That rhymes.” You would say. I never knew why you found rhyming funny and I guess I never will.

We matched that way you know; you having blue eyes and me having brown. You were the above and I was the below. You were the sky and I was the land. I suppose it is still that way now, isn’t it, darling?

I remember your lips; soft and pink and wonderful. Do you remember the first time we kissed? It was behind our High School; where we met. I was nervous; my stomach had that feeling…Yes, butterflies. I got those a lot when I was near you. As our lips brushed, I remember thinking it was so perfect, so...remarkable. I still do think that, Anna, do you?

I remember a lot of things, Belle. I remember how much I loved you. I remember your voice, your laugh, the look you got when you were frustrated. It was so cute; your eyebrows furrowed and you bit your bottom lip. I remember telling you that you were sexy when you gave me that look, with your brown hair all free and tousled. You had hit me, but you hadn’t been able to suppress the rush of giggles that corrupted from your mouth.

I need to go now, Darling, but I need you to remember something:

I remember and I love you.

Always yours,

Jared Green.


The letter arrived this morning and I still don’t know how this was even possible. I run my fingers over the clean page in astonishment. I taste longing and desire and love and every emotion jumbled up into the salty tears that run down my cheeks.

I let the page slip from my fingers as I look up at the white, kitchen ceiling; at him. My voice, when it comes, is loud and sure. “I remember, Jared.” I say, “And I love you. Always yours, Anna.”