What I haven't said in this letter, Mal, what I've been trying to write among all these scattered words is, is that I'm afraid. I'm scared, Mal. We grew up reading about a Saint who would one day perform a miracle of light and solve our country's problems, and we knew that was a lie. We knew that no stranger ever solved our problems for us. No great miracle was coming. That's why we had each other. The world is hard and cruel, but we had each other, and that was enough. That was everything. If Saints were once real, they've long since left us. Yet now, everyone is looking at me like I'm the answer. Like I'm the miracle the world has been waiting for. Or perhaps they know I'm a fraud, an imposter. I'm terrified. Of failure or success. If I really do have this power, who am I? I would be everything we mocked and dismissed. A stranger to myself. And to you. You once told me you were the most scared when you were lost. But getting lost can happen even when you know where you are. You told me about cardinal north and true north. Cardinal north is a direction on a map. True north? True north is home. It is where you feel safe and loved. You have always been my true north, Mal. And if I am to survive this, I need to be home again, with you.