I've been dreaming a lot about you recently. Well, you and this girl I went to high school with. She has a husband and a kid now, you know. Maybe two kids, even. I used to spend a lot of time with her when I was sixteen or so. She was incredibly beautiful, and I of course played the anguished fool admitted into her innermost confidence solely because of my timidity, my awkwardness, and my not even registering as a possible romantic interest.

I was hopelessly in love; and at least in my own eyes, I was always there for her when she needed someone most. She dated the worst kind of guys, too. The mean ones with wide shoulders and football jerseys. It's all like some kind of two-bit Hollywood script, really.

Anyway, I suppose that I wish I'd been the one to marry her and not that other guy, and that's why I keep dreaming about her. And I suppose that I wish you hadn't gone and killed yourself, and that's why I keep dreaming about you.

Some things in life we just don't get to have though, you know? And maybe for those of us that daydream about what could have been, well, maybe if we'd married that girl or gotten that job or taken that chance, things wouldn't end up in that glowing, picturesque way that we imagine they would, anyway.

And then again, maybe they would.