Hell, Satan’s Steps, Tailor’s Stitch
January 14th, 1993
It took a lot of effort to bring myself to give this to you. I guess we don’t speak a lot, so I thought writing this down would be easier. The weather hasn’t been very good either, so I think everyone finds it hard to bring themselves out of their sleeping bags at the moment. I can’t say I haven’t noticed the amount of time you and Fi spend together nowadays. I never really knew her before the trip, so I always assumed she was a stereotypical townie, but she is not that at all. I was talking to her the other day, the day Kevin, Corrie, Robyn and Chris went into Wirrawee to gather some information, and we chatted about our old monotonous lives, and she is so different from what I thought. I think she’s really into you, and Ellie said you seem to be into her. I guess we’re the same as you guys in a way, Ellie and I. There isn’t really much to tell about anyone or anything that you don’t already know about. When the others returned, that day, I was so scared that someone would tell me something I’d been dreading. When news time is over, I allow myself to breathe again. I wouldn’t want to ever have to tell someone that their parents have died, or their siblings or friends have passed on. It’s an awful situation to be put in, and I hope that I never am forced to deliver news like that. I figured we’re in similar positions, in more ways than I’ve imagined, and that’s why I’ve addressed this to you and not Ellie, or Fi, or Kevin or anyone else. Anyone else would try to reassure me that I was wrong, that I was being completely stupid. That’s not what I’m looking for, though. I guess I want to know that I’m not the only one who’s got this stuck in my head. If anyone was to feel the same, it would be you. None of us know where the invaders’ are from or what language they speak, and knowing that really freaks me out. I guess the whole invasion has made me think about what it really...