Dear Anton,

I came on IMDB to see if it might say where I could find The Apprentice. It doesn't... I'm not sure why I'm writing this here. Seems silly. But I suppose human nature, generally speaking, is a bit silly. You'd seemed older recently. Like, through all your effort to observe and learn about this world, it placed on you the weight of existential awareness and concern. Like your spark, extended to everyone and anyone, needed some recharging. Or perhaps it was the endless busyness with business because, why should time slow when the mind doesn't? Either way, it just doesn't seem real. I don't think it ever will. I've thought about it a thousand times, how none of this makes sense. I swear, if I could trade places with you, I would. I'm so sorry. Everyone who has ever loved you is hurting, and I know it makes me selfish to speak singularly when I say the air inside my lungs is for you and I can't possibly imagine it any other way now. I hope you are at peace. I hope you understand all the things we do not, yet. I'll probably write and/or talk to you everyday. Ha! A tiny trail of grief, scattered. This kid. With those eyes. What are we doing?

K