Know only as Mr. Sugar

Dear Melinda,

I noticed after you left the ball last night that you had dropped your monogrammed handkerchief. Was this a sign? Was I meant to retrieve it and pursue you? If so, please accept my grandest apologies... I was saddled up to the all you can eat shrimp bar when you took your leave. I only discovered it later when Kenny and I were unceremoniously tossed down the mansion's velvet covered stairs and out into the unyielding December breeze (I guess "all you can eat" is only figure of speech).

I noticed it then, one corner touching a rain-engorged puddle, a slight trace of cherry lipstick at the edge... or was it a drop of blood from your broken heart? Oh Melinda! If I had only known! You came with the Colonel, but I saw the way you blinked at me from behind your Ostrich feather fan. Kenny said it was because I had removed my pants so soon in the evening, but I know better. We are kindred spirits! You understand how fabric can constrain not only the body, but the soul as well.

I hope this letter finds you in good humor and remember, if you ever need me, I'm still working (and living) at Pizza Hut so you can reach me at 488-8888. Just remember that they know me only as Mr. Sugar, so please refrain from using my real name.

Deep Kisses,
Alex Sweaterbalm