Dear Jude,

I miss your smile as I flip through my old pics of you on my phone.

I miss your early morning alarms when you get up to go to work. I miss you coming home smelling of chlorine, your hair still damp from the pool.

I miss how you dress: crisp & handsome in a suit, a matching pocket square at your breast.

I miss us all hanging out: JB spoiling the ends of novels for you; Malcolm sketching buildings in the armchair; Willem sprawled next to you on the couch.

You were the most interesting of all of us. I’m just the writer, documenting your life.

I miss you.

I hope the trail is going well.

Love,

M.

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