Dear Emily
Things have been pretty slow since we lost you. We've been on leave and then on light duties only – so basically the whole team's sat around, doing paperwork and going stir crazy.
It feels like so much longer than six weeks.
It feels like a lifetime since I blushed at you and Morgan picking on me. Since I heard you laugh from across my desk and since you flashed me a smile over a file you were working on. Since I heard your voice on the radio or watched you sleep on the jet.
And yet, it feels like you were with us yesterday.
Every morning I wake up and, for a few brief moments, you are still here. You're still with us, and you're going to be stood laughing with Morgan, clutching a cup of coffee when I stagger through the door. You're going to whisper in the ears of JJ and Garcia at break time, discussing last Saturday night and you're going to conspire with Morgan over who to prank next. You're going to bug me till I tell you what's up when I have a bad day and you're going to talk me out of it without me even realising. You're going to run out for coffee with Rossi and wander up to Hotch's office at the end of the day to make sure he laughs, and to say goodnight. You are going to flounce out with JJ, giggling again, or with Morgan and I, laughing at one, or both of us, and you are going to laugh when you drop your car keys before throwing your bag in the back and dropping into the driver's seat, waving goodbye to us.
But you're not going to be stood, laughing with Morgan and clutching your morning coffee. Morgan isn't going to be laughing with anyone. JJ will be silent and Penelope will visit us only to distract herself, her eyes pink and puffy. Rossi's not even going to make the coffee run, instead he'll sit in his office, alone. You won't get a smile out of Hotch anymore. And you won't say goodnight and wave goodbye at the end of the day.
You are gone.
And moments after I wake up, I know that, and I wish I was gone too.
Yours always,
Spencer