Voitle had no time to waste. He rushed through halls, doors, passageways, mazes, anything. He kept running, even though he was winded. Finally he was there after making it to the bottom of a winding and treacherous staircase. His personal library. Voitle dug through sheets of paper, envelopes, letters, etc. He continued searching frantically. Once he found what he was looking for, his eyes started tearing up. “Oh... Oh...” He fell to his knees and laid down on his back. “Oh my God.” He looked down at the letter. The green gel pen, the little stickers, the funny drawings, the spelling errors. All there, all perfect, all he ever wanted. She completely intoxicated him. “‘Please write soon’,” he read. “She might still be waiting. I hope my letters got to her. I hope she’s happy...” Voitle laughed to himself, gripping the letter, holding onto the memories of young love. They were going to marry. It was going to be bliss. He left high school for nothing. Still, thinking of her made him so happy. He knew he’d