Dear Edward,
I am not a religious man, and yet I can't seem to find a secular phrase that carries the same weight as, "I pray you are doing well." Hopefully, you can understand my meaning.
No news has reached me of your whereabouts, which I suppose is a good thing. If I can't find you, perhaps Bradley can't either, which would mean you're safe. Yet I still worry.
I had a nightmare the other night, that you were found—well, your body was. You were still up north, and the ice and snow had preserved you, but…you were dead.
Though I can't explain it, I know in my heart that's not true. I know you're alive. Just as I am not into faith, I am not much into thinking with my heart instead of my head. It's happening, though, and it's not something I can turn off. Or something I want to turn off.
Thoughts of you cross my mind often. I think your absence has gotten me flustered enough to where if I knew where to send this letter, I would. If only to have some contact. You'd think me crazy, reading this, but it would be worth it. I'd rather have you yelling at me about being some old weirdo than have you gone.
It is logical to think that you won't emerge from hiding until the Promised Day. After that, it won't matter if you're caught by Bradley (hopefully). And while I dread that day for my country, I can hardly wait until it comes.
Yours,
Roy