I walk down the street and turn into an alleyway. I run up the familiar stairs I climb everyday, and turn the lock of my apartment door.
The room opens up for me as I place my bag on its usual hook and close the door. The work ahead of me seems daunting, but I know it would be worth it.
I wander over to my office, where the desk faced the window revealing the garden onwards. I sit down where I sit everyday, opening my laptop to begin writing the idea that popped into my mind on the metro.

But before I start, I pull out a pen and paper.

Dear Pete,
Today marks 5 years since your departure. It is a weird feeling, but I'm sure you're happier.
I came up with an idea today coming home, and I thought that you would like it. I shall tell you tomorrow, after I've begun it to keep you in suspense.

See you in the funny papers,
Georgia. 

I fold the letter up and place it in the container next to my desk, where all the Dear Pete letters retired too. I never missed a day.

I open up word on my laptop and look out at the garden, knowing Pete is there somewhere, there but not truly there. I feel his arms around me, even though there are memories of when they were harsh. I begin typing.

The trip was 3 hours long but it felt like it had been going for all of eternity. My dad drove his 2007 Toyota Prado with our rental caravan on the back, something rather foreign to all of us. The last time I was on that road was a year ago......