Well, even after all these months, you still haunt me. I stumbled across you phone number while looking up something else. Should I use it?

You're not worth the price of an international call. I have to keep reminding myself of that. My love across the ocean. Did you mean a word in that letter, those six pages of joy that reminded me that even I could be loved, God forbid?

Maybe you did, back then.

You were sheer amazement. Smart, funny, and a good kisser to boot. Our one night of simple happiness turns into letters and e-mails. And then you drop the bomb, without warning. I wish you would respond to me. Something, anything to let me know that I was still in your mind.

I doubt you've ever thought of me since. My heart, cracked and bruised by the memory of you loving me. But you have a fun-loving existence, while I am so scared by the thought of doing poorly in anything that I am driven to the point of madness.

You drove me mad with happiness. And I will see you again, standing on your doorstep looking better than you could imagine. I swear it. Or maybe I'll call just to let you know that I'm happy without you. No guilt. No repercussions. Or that my heart aches at your words.

Or maybe I'll just fall in love with someone who actually lives in the same time zone.

Respectfully,

Emily