[ Quentin figures a letter would be more comforting than a text. Voice or video seemed trite, texts seemed too cold. He's got nothing but time on his hands after his death, and he needs something to do to keep his mind off of the aches and pains.
Plus, after his little breakdown, he realized the only way to move forward was to try to fix things. Mend them, just a little. His handwriting is messy, the type of chickenscratch that hurried authors use. ]
Diarmuid,
I really hope I'm spelling that right. There's no way to put this gently, so I'm going to treat you like I would a peer. I don't think it's fair to you if I try to be an adult, full stop. I'm away from the dome for the first time in a month, which means I can think a little clearer.
Here's the thing: I fucked up. Really, really badly. I'm supposed to be a teacher. A person older than you that helps and mentors and makes sure you go your own way. I didn't do that. I tried to kill you.
I know my words probably don't mean anything, but I've never tried to kill another person before, let alone a kid. I'm sorry. I don't think saying I'm sorry in a letter is enough, though, so I want to apologize in person.
It's okay if you don't want to meet me. I get it. It's okay if you want someone to come with you, too, and we can choose a public place. For what it's worth Eliot wants to come, but I said maybe one person at a time. I don't want it to seem like we're ganging up on you.
It's cool if you ignore this, by the way. I won't be insulted. I'll transfer you to another math classroom, too, if that's what you want.
A handwritten letter;
Plus, after his little breakdown, he realized the only way to move forward was to try to fix things. Mend them, just a little. His handwriting is messy, the type of chickenscratch that hurried authors use. ]
Diarmuid,
I really hope I'm spelling that right. There's no way to put this gently, so I'm going to treat you like I would a peer. I don't think it's fair to you if I try to be an adult, full stop. I'm away from the dome for the first time in a month, which means I can think a little clearer.
Here's the thing: I fucked up. Really, really badly. I'm supposed to be a teacher. A person older than you that helps and mentors and makes sure you go your own way. I didn't do that. I tried to kill you.
I know my words probably don't mean anything, but I've never tried to kill another person before, let alone a kid. I'm sorry. I don't think saying I'm sorry in a letter is enough, though, so I want to apologize in person.
It's okay if you don't want to meet me. I get it. It's okay if you want someone to come with you, too, and we can choose a public place. For what it's worth Eliot wants to come, but I said maybe one person at a time. I don't want it to seem like we're ganging up on you.
It's cool if you ignore this, by the way. I won't be insulted. I'll transfer you to another math classroom, too, if that's what you want.
I do hope you're well,
-Quentin Coldwater