I think of about you everyday. It is not because of that fantastic voyage with you, the shower curtains and the oil; nor is it because of the way you used to beg me to eat that horrible combination of eggs and ketchup every 'morning after'
You would maybe even think it's because of that time I walked in on you and that girl from the laundromat and you were all like, "Hey! You're back!"
...actually, it's because I left a copy of Avengers #500 under your nightstand. If we hadn't split so horribly, I'd ask you to mail it to me. Maybe you'll read this and do so anyway.
P.S. A friend of mine visits your restaurant all the time. I hinted at our relationship and now she's DYING to know your identity... she practically named all your co-workers.
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