Tess,

  Whatever you do, do not tell Pitney that I’m writing to you again. I realize that you can’t but that’s rarely stopped you in the past so I had to say it. The very last thing I need is him gloating over the fact that yes, it felt kind of good to talk to you. You were the only person I could ever talk to with complete freedom—never having to explain or defend or guard my words. I know I’ve been stiff as a railroad tie since you left, because I don’t know how to relax in a world that doesn’t have you in it.

  Don’t tell me I’m being selfish again because 1. I know that and 2. of course I am. Grief is selfish. The part of me that watched the Pall torture you felt great relief when it let you go, but the rest of me—the me that has to go around keeping appointments like the world is normal—is what is left, and that’s the part I’m trying to grapple with now.

  Anyway, much more of this and you’ll get bored and stop reading. Just to keep you engaged, I’ll make sure to tell you one interesting thing whenever I write, okay? Okay.

  This week a woman brought her friend in to be treated for the Pall. She was very affectionate and comfortable with the other woman and I was surprised to see it. You and I know the Pall is not contagious (at least not in the typical viral ways) but it’s so widespread in Haven Station that it’s been difficult to convince the locals. I never realized how little information makes it from the Citadel to these little outposts. What we do hear is almost certainly a vastly diluted version of what it was.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Anyway, Shayne (that’s the woman’s name) didn’t seem to be at all worried about catching it from her friend. I asked her about it and she shrugged and said “How else do I find out if I’m immune?” She was joking but do you know I kind of think she believed it? You always thought there might be some people who possess immunity, but we could never figure out how to find out.

  Of course, I don’t think Shayne is any more immune than anyone else who hasn’t caught it yet, but it stood out because out here it’s exceedingly rare to meet someone who hasn’t. Hell, even Pitney has it, though he’s in the earliest stages. Anyway, don’t get excited, this does not mean I’m interested in picking up your research. I just know you’d find it interesting yourself, and you’d kill me if I didn’t share it. It’s a small town and the Committee isn’t going to let me out of it any time soon, so if she ever does catch it, I’ll be sure to let you know.

  Besides, I think she and Pitney took a liking to each other, so I’m sure I’ll be seeing her again. That man is downright goofy when he’s around a pretty girl, it turns out. I’ve got to go, love. I have a slew of patients to see this afternoon, but I’ll consider writing again, as long as it stays between you and me.

  With all my dearest thoughts (and fuck you for dying)

  Samar