Letters spilled over the floor. Dozens of them, written on the same yellowed paper as the one I held in my hand. I scooped them back into the box and took it with me when I left.
Few people know me, but I know many people. That's a skill that comes from living in the shadows and gaining knowledge through observation. It sounds bad, I know, but I didn't have a lot of options.
This isn't right. None of it. I can't say why, but it's all so wrong.
The day, sunny this morning, has turned cold and dreary, like any good holiday in the city. No snow here, though. I doubt half the residents even know the word. There's been such little communication from outside cities for so long that knowledge of other climates has passed beyond common knowledge. I know what it is because Tessian, Nemus's father, took it into his head to give all of us orphans what he considered a proper education. From him, I know that snow used to be expected on this holiday, though even the holiday's name has been lost to time. People still celebrate, though.