I am going away. Don't be angry that I didn't tell you, I just didn't want our last few days together to feel like the end. You always get ahead of yourself with things like this, planning and scheduling and waiting for everything to be perfect. There is no such thing as perfection, Dear One, no matter how much I wish I could give you just that. 

I don't know how long I will be gone, how long I will be away from you. I don't even know where they're sending me, and if I did, I couldn't tell you. All I have, all we can have, are these letters. Simple words on paper that could never convey the depth of my emotion for you. For that, as well as my deception, I apologize.

We can't write names, Dear One. Never write names. Not mine, not yours, not anyone's. As much as it pains me to say, we may not be the only ones reading these words meant only for the intimacy of each other's eyes. Something else I must add to the growing list of things I am sorry to you for. Is it any consolation that I already miss you? That I already yearn for your presence beside me? It's been so long since I've had to be away from you for more than a moment, and I can already feel it killing me. I hope you don't mind, but I took your picture with me. The one of your high school graduation, you know it's always been my faveorite. But in retrospect, perhaps a more recent one would have been better, as I have already been asked by the official checking my belongings if you're my younger brother. I know how much you hate that question.

Please, Lover, I implore again that you not be too angry with me. Every letter you write, I will teasure. So, please, write soon. I go to sleep now with the thouht that I am at least keeping you safe, even in my physical absence.

 

-Your forever faithful Tigger