To the boy from the Galleria,
     who was rocking the largest bronzed eagle I’ve ever seen near a crotch,
     who is one of the few people to pull off camo,
     and who has the most amazing smile ever,

I apologize. I apologize for making something out of nothing. I overanalyze things: the overwhelming fear of rejection made it impossible to form the words or express the least bit of interest. But you were a sweetheart, I could tell—there was no reason to be afraid. Looking back, the words finally came: “Hey, what’s your name?”

If it means anything, I looked for you. Hopefully, I’ll run into you again, but judging how things have gone in the past, I shouldn’t set my hopes too high.