As much as Sam hated to admit it, he was starting to think that Zoe might have been right while he was wrong. He couldn't stop thinking about how she'd sounded when she said she knew he wasn't all right; he thought he'd been managing to keep himself together better than that, well enough that Zoe and his dad wouldn't worry.
Sam sighed and sat down at his desk, staring at the surface. The letter that Peter had written right before he'd died was still taped down where Sam had first put it to serve as a reminder of how badly he'd screwed things up. It felt a little like giving up to think about starting to move on, but Sam tried to tell himself that this was really only a small gesture, only a baby step towards letting Peter go. He carefully pried the tape off and picked the letter up, intending to tuck it away with his important papers where it would be safe, where he could read it and re-read it over and over, but where it would be out of constant sight. As he tried to remember where he'd put the envelope, he turned the letter over, and for the first time, Sam noticed the picture on the back.
It was good, too good to be drawn by Peter - unless he was using his artistic ability. Setting the letter down again, Sam tried to make sense of the drawing. It looked like him and Peter, but there was no way for the drawing to be true. The explosion was still in the future when Peter had written the letter, so the obvious explanation was that the drawing showed that Sam should have been in the city. But that moment had come and gone with them apart, and that wasn't how Peter's power worked. The only other explanation was one that Sam couldn't bring himself to accept: that this drawing was something that hadn't happened yet. It was dizzying to think about, too amazing to even consider, and Sam didn't know how that could be true, but he did know that this moving on business probably wasn't going to be happening any time soon.
- Room 320, Late Wednesday Evening