22 November 1981
There is no mail in Azkaban. I know this; do not think me naïve. I cling tightly to the belief that you will never see this (so why do I keep excusing myself? I don't know, don't ask me). Nevertheless, I feel compelled to write to you. About you. For you.
It terrifies me how much I miss you.
Fuck.
This is wrong.
-- Remus