Gideon Charles Prewett

|Warded to Greta.|

I think that you and I should go on a proper date. I honestly can't remember the last time we did. Whad'ya say?

Also, I promise that it won't be to a match. Cross my heart.
|End ward.|

So does this abnormally chilly Autumn mean something or is it just bloody cold? It's not some terrible omen, right?

|Warded to Greta.|

First of all, I love you.

You're sleeping and I'm up far past my bedtime. I'll pop down and see you in the bakery before I head to work but I wanted to write to you, lest I forget to tell you this in the morning.

One of my colleagues and old schoolmates had someone die close to her and she's having a rather difficult time dealing. I offered to have a few drinks with her tomorrow but I won't be out too too late. I just don't want you to worry. I'll have my journal if you need me.

I love you. See you in the morning, cupcake.

|End ward.|

|Warded private.|

Things got hairy this weekend. People were almost caught and now there's a murder being blamed on us. There's no possible way that Dorcas was responsible. No way at all.

And then, as if the party wasn't bad enough, Greta was there. She was oblivious to the goings on. She didn't see anything or at least she didn't mention anything to me about it. I need to man up and tell her about the Order. What's more, I need to tell her that I'm a part of it all.

It's not a trust issue. I trust Greta with my life. I'm just so afraid that she'll disapprove. I couldn't take that. What if she leaves me because I can't leave the Order? It's just a risk I can't take. Not yet. I should feel it out. Perhaps I can base an opinion using vague questions?

Why can't the world just be simple?
|End ward.|

The pink crayon was a lovely addition to my pages. I only wish I had purple to match.

And the match everyone's talking about (or should be at any rate): Cannons vs. Puddlemere. Some say no contest but I'm going to say fuck all (I'll pay you when I see you, Dorcas) and go Orange. They could use the win. We could all use a win.

My mother used to tell me that if I held a buttercup under my chin, I liked butter. I think this is a silly thing to say. What if I liked butter and then there was no yellow under my chin? This could have really messed with my head as a child, ya know?

I was having a bit of buttered toast and this thought came to me, in case anyone was wondering. And for the record, I really like butter. Butter is good.

( People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts. )