Dear Jenny,

Paris is fucking AMAZING! Yes—I made it. And no—I didn't murder Anna along the way. I'm still not sure why you'd think putting us in a compressed metal tube for 10+ hours was a good idea. You know she hates me, right?

She hasn't changed. She's still moody Anna. Moodier, in fact. You dying has made her more unbearable. You were our filter, J-bug. Our common ground. Now, we've got nothing. Actually—that's not true. We've got filthy looks and snide comments. Does that count?

I wish you were here. You'd love it. The food. The sights. It's everything we ever imagined and more. We definitely would've had a great time together here. Instead, I'm stuck watching Anna attempt to order an omelette in what can only be described as the most offensive French accent known to mankind.

"He speaks English, ya know?" I inform.

I suppress a sigh—are you proud?

"We're in France," she retorts, eyes never straying from the menu. "It's polite to speak the native language."

"Even if you're butchering it?" I snipe.

Sorry, Jenny. I couldn't resist.

Surprisingly, she doesn't respond. Perhaps she's plotting my murder? Branden warned me about this. He thought I was an idiot for quitting my job to follow some bucket list across the Atlantic. But it's not just some bucket list. It's your bucket list. And I trust you enough to know that you have some greater plan. I might not know what it is yet, but it must be important if you're willing to put Anna and I in the same vicinity as each other.

She's brunette now, by the way, and the colour suits her. You always did try and persuade her to dye her hair. I remember you saying it would make her turquoise eyes pop. Well—you were right. It does. Anna has lovely eyes. There—I said something nice about her. Happy now?

I miss you, Jenny. So fucking much. It hurts. Every day hurts without you. And not just mentally, but physically too. I swear its harder to breathe without you here. I had a panic attack the other day. It happened at work. Thankfully, Brandon was there to talk me through the breathing exercises. Within twenty minutes I was fine, and afterwards I walked straight into Gavin's office and quit. I'll admit, it was a rash decision, but I don't regret doing it. Lately, I've been feeling a little lost at work. I have no direction. No passion. I used to love going to the office. Selling houses. Now, I feel... nothing.

Maybe this trip will do me the world of good? Maybe that's why I'm here? To find myself again. I want to. I really do, but everything reminds me of the future we'll never have. It's not fair.

"What are you writing?"

That's Anna. She's attempting to start a conversation.

"Just writing down all the possible ways I can get rid of you," I reply.

"You could push me off the Eiffel Tower?" she suggests. "Make it look like an accident."

"Now, there's an idea!"

She laughs.

It's a nice sound.

"I could poison your omelette?" I offer.

"How?"

"Arsenic."

"You just carry around arsenic in your pocket, do you?"

Okay—that was funny. I'll give her that.

She has a nice side—I know that—I just never get to see it. That side of her was always reserved for you, Jenny. I suppose she has a hard time letting people in, and I know that's probably to do with her past. Still, I can't let that be an excuse for the shit she's dished out to me over the years. Too much has happened for me to simply forgive her.

I doubt we'll ever be friends.

I just hope that wasn't your intention, because if it was, you've wasted your time.

Anna hates me.

And the worst part is, I can't even bring myself to hate her back.

Love you, always.
Harry