George

Dear Annie,
I don't know what to say. Nina and I saw it happen- we saw you go. I guess that's a blessing, isn't it, I mean, you're solid enough to appear on camera...you were slightly transparent, but you were there all the same; you looked perfectly human, only a little faded.

We've moved away from Bristol- we've found an old B&B on Barry Island. Yes, I know, I didn't fancy the idea of Wales too much, but it's safe, and we all needed a fresh start. You'd love this place; there's a room specially for you- there was the most beautiful teapot on the dresser in there, and we thought it might be a sign, you know, that you might...
If you don't, it'll still be your room.
There's the most amazing mural there as well; like the view from a Hawaiian beach- so hideously tacky but brilliant at the same time. The place is called 'Honululu Nights' or something ridiculous like that. It's all Hawaiian themed...the main reason we bought it was just that we needed somewhere with a space for Nina and I to transform in (there's a basement 'gym'- we've emptied it out and we're going to take it in turns to transform there) and we needed it fast. Still, I think the unspoken reason was that we wanted somewhere warm and welcoming, and the idea of Hawaii brought some sort of warmth.

But the truth is that it's cold. It's so cold. And it's not just because of rotten Welsh weather- there's something more than that. We could stuff the whole place full of blankets, duvets and heaters and it wouldn't be any warmer. It's cold because you're not here, Annie. All this rambling, telling you how we're doing...it's pointless, isn't it? You're never going to get this letter are you? But I'm still writing, and I don't know why...

If Mitchell finds out I'm doing this I'll never hear the end of it- he'll make fun of me for the rest of my life.
At least, the old Mitchell would have- but he's changed. He's changed so much, Annie, you have no idea. He's been weird before, but this is different; we all know why he's acting like this, but we can't do anything about it; only you could. All you'd have to do is walk in again, and he'd be back to normal, wouldn't he? I think he would.
He says he's coming to get you, you know? I don't know whether he'll make it, but I hope he does. We all need you back.

You know what? There's nothing I want more than a cup of tea right now. I've tried making myself some, but it doesn't work. It's just...tea. Your tea was so much more; even when you used to dunk biscuits in and just leave them, and I'd drink my tea and find bits of semi-disintegrated biscuit at the bottom, like a signature.
To be perfectly honest, I've tried that. I tried dunking biscuits in my tea and leaving them there, and it still isn't the same. I've tried making tea obsessively and leaving mugs of it on every surface I can find, in an attempt to make this place feel like home again, but it didn't work.
I've been thinking about it so much, and although I hate the fact that this is beginning to sound like a cheesy 90s chick-flick, I can't help it. My tea- anyone's tea- isn't the same as yours because it lacks something that you have far more than anyone else- something you give to everyone, unconditionally; love. That's all there is to it. Nobody loves like you, and that's why nobody can reproduce the warmth you bring to a room, a house- the world.

I miss you so much Annie- we all do,
Love,
George.

P.S. Re-reading this...the amount of bullshit I've written is incredible. It's all true, but none of it is enough to sum up just what I'm saying. I'm going to try again;

All that time we spent trying to be as human as possible...I see now why it was easier for Mitchell and I- because we were still human, still capable of disgusting ambition and greed- still essentially, fatally flawed. You, on the other hand, couldn't possibly be human; not because you a freak, an anomaly- as you thought at the time; but because you were blessed. No, you couldn't be human, because you were already an angel.