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Dear Emily,

I know it’s been some years since I’ve spoken to you, and you probably assumed I’d gotten past it by now, but I need some closure. I couldn’t tell you this before because I was too close to it; I needed time and space to gather myself and recover enough to say this to you.

You remember this, right?

When we were kids, we used to buy the big 24-pack of Valentine’s day cards (or rather, our mothers used to buy them for us), and we’d pass them out at random to everyone in the class.

You know the ones I’m talking about. They came perforated, four to a sheet, in a variety of cartoons; Peanuts was a staple, but there was also Pound Puppies, etc. Sometimes you’d even find G.I. Joe, but your mother wouldn’t let you buy that one because it was too cool and Valentine’s day isn’t cool.