A Letter of My Mortal Departure For The Illustrious Greggory Ballthalmule

My dearest and most warmly thought of Greggory, I write to inform you my that our worst fears have come to pass. The doctors and surgeons have all but confirmed it, I have fallen ill. A dark viscous bile is the only lubricant that provides my constricted throat any ease, a damp sweat soaks my sheets in the dark of night. I have lost all sense of hearing and boils have started to flush my legs like the tide of time rushing upon the elderly. Each approaching moment I grow more confident that this illness that beseeches me is terminal. The servants have tried their best to keep my comfortable but in this old manor there truly is no warmth to be found. If not for the memories of our time together in this 3D objects design class, I would have surely frozen days ago. I regret not being able to attend today's lesson, I have an even deeper regret that I shall not be posting the homework this week as I have fallen to a weakness not entirely different than the black death. with the reprieve of next week's reading week, I should surely be in good enough health to submit my greatly overdue assignment. I apologize for my tardiness, and I do greatly beg of your mercy. I must go now as my vision is fading and the wolves are howling. do not forget me my dearest, do not forget me, Gregory. 

Dictated but not read sincerely, Aidan Sherlock-Steeves