Names have been changed to protect the privacy of the parties involved.

Dear Schmanford,

How I've loved you. I taped your picture above my computer monitor, I flew to visit you, I made my English teacher in 12th grade edit and re-edit my essay to you until she asked me to stop showing her the same damn thing. What I would've given six years ago to be in the warm comfortably temperate embrace of your perfectly manicured palm trees.

And how you've loved to be coy, then and now again.

Well, Schmanford, this time I know better than to hold my breath for you. I'm moving on, moving to the coast of sunrises for Schmale. Schmale accepts me for who I am.

Goodbye forever. You will never again hear from me or, if I can help it, every last one of my descendants.

Yours No Longer,

Schmames