In high school , my BFF and I used to hang out at this local cafe called Bradey's in
Kent near the university. On Fridays they'd have open mic poetry night and we'd all write poetry right at the table to recite.
These days it's a Starbucks, but to us it'll always be Bradey's.
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One time an older gentleman approached our table and left me an
envelope. He must have been at least 30. I was 16. It was a love letter
waxing poetic about the gentleness of my smile and my youthful beauty
and how in a prefect world he could tell me these things face th
o face and it'd be okay, but since it wasn't the letter would have to do. Throughout he called me nothing but Dearest.
After giving me the envelope he paid his bill and left. We never saw
the man again. Which is probably for the best, honestly, because it was
wildly inappropriate. I definitely did not look "older" than my age. But
for the longest time thereafter my BFF jokingly referred to me as
Dearest. It was an inside joke that I nearly forgot about until this
shirt arrived from her yesterday and I'm not even sure she herself
remembered before sending it.
I wonder what ever became of that man?