“I say, did you ever write him the letter we spoke of?” He sat down and gave me an encouraging smile. I shook my head. “I tried. I just...I couldn’t think of anything I thought he’d like to hear about.” I remembered the letter I’d written and stuffed under my mattress. I’d forgotten all about it. “I don’t think that is the purpose of letters, Jude.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate. I frowned at this. “What’s the purpose of letters then?” Another of his encouraging smiles. “Well, to say things we might not be brave enough to say face to face.”
