Dear Fred,
Angelina insisted that I try writing a diary talking about my emotions, but I thought that was absurd. She thought I needed to let out my feelings so that I could "come to terms with" you...leaving. After my first good scoff at such an insane idea, she instead gave the idea of a letter. At first I was against it, but the idea grew on me, so here it is.
I still can't believe it's over. The war. Voldemort. Us. Everything. I didn't know what to do when it happened. I feel empty inside. What am I to do without my twin?
It's true. It's always been Fred and George, Fred and George. Oh, the twins! But now there isn't any Fred and George, just George. People will still call me Fred and it's been over a month.
I bet your interested in the shop, aren't you, Fred? I'm insane, pretending to write to you like this. Bloody hell though, it feels like I'm actually talking to you. The shop, yes. The first day I came back after the war to open it, I left within thirty minutes. I've realized I'm not quite used to the quiet yet without you. You were always there, talking and scheming. Now, there is nothing.
I went to sleep in our flat above the shop that night. I saw your suit jacket on the living room couch and I couldn't do it. I went to the Leaky Cauldron as soon as possible that night. And the rest of the week after that.
Sincerely, George