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Dearest Lily,
How strange it is to write to you after all this time. I dreamt of you last night, it was a nice dream. You and I were still in school, researching in the library for ways to improve cookies’ lives. I remember you sighing, your brows furrowed. You brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear as we hunched over an ancient scroll. I think it was about some war or another. You always hated war, hated suffering. I always admired that about you, how deeply you cared.
It’s funny thinking about it now, since I believe I have figured out a way to end the suffering plaguing cookie-kind. You deserve, far more than anyone else, to have your suffering ended. You, who cared so much for cookies who didn’t know your name, for cookies who could have taken your discoveries and used them to further the suffering of this world.
I’ll be visiting your kingdom (I can’t wait to see it!). I suppose I’ll miss you, but it’s what you deserve for your decades of selfless sacrifice.
Yours Truly,
Saint Vanilla Cookie.