Dear Thomas,
This is the first letter I could remember writing. Obviously I donโt know if I wrote any before the Maze. But even if itโs not my first, itโs likely to be my last. I want you to know that iโm not scared. Well not dying, anyway, itโs more forgetting. Itโs losing myself to this virus. Thatโs what scares me. So every night Iโve been saying their names out loud. Alby. Winston. Chuck. I just repeat them over and over like a prayer, and it all comes flooding back. Just the little things like where the sun used to hit the Glade at that perfect moment right before it slipped beneath the walls. And I remember the taste of frypanโs stew. I never thought Iโd miss that stuff so much. I remember you. I remember the first time you came up in the box, just a scared little greenie who couldnโt even remember his own name. But, from that moment you ran into the Maze, I knew I would follow you anywhere. And I have. We all have. If I could do it all over again, I would. And I wouldnโt change a thing. My hope for you is when youโre looking back years from now youโll be able to say the same. The future is in your hands now, Tommy. I know youโll find a way to do whatโs right. You always have. Take care of everyone and take care of yourself. You deserve to be happy. Thank you for being my friend. Goodbye, mate.
- Newt
