Dear Eve,

    I hope that this is a waste of time. That I am simply paranoid and that I will write this and then live a long happy life. Better yet, I hope I am reading this with you, that you’ve found it in some old shoebox and asked me, your grey haired silly old father, what it is. That would be wonderful. Then we could just dismiss this as some pointless thing I wrote when I was younger. When I feared for our lives. It would be lovely if we could laugh about this together.

But there is a good chance that you’re reading this alone.

George’s letter to his daughter. (Read the rest here.)