Words could hardly describe just how much you despised your stupid religion-obsessed hometown in New Jersey. It was small, and boring, and simply too dull. You hated the stupid constant rainy weather and the stupid fog; the stupid teenagers at your highschool who all had the same ridiculous herd mentality. And you especially hated your feelings for preachers daughter, choir lead, perfect pretty girl Lottie Matthews. You were stuck.

Stuck will bills, stuck with your dad who had no job because no one would hire him, and stuck in your tiny train-railway side apartment. But hey, what’s a girl to do? Gotta make bank somehow. Thus was born your essay writing ‘business.’ $10 for 3 pages, $20 for 3-10, not in the over-ten-page biz. Which is exactly the slew of information you delivered in a tone laced with annoyance to dumb-of-ass quarterback Paul Munsky, when he chased you down on your bike with an envelope in hand.

I’m not trying to cheat. He had protested, an irritatingly confused expression across his face. Nobody is, you'd told him, pestering for the class name and teacher as he passed the envelope for you, claiming it was a letter.

"Who writes letters these days?"

"I thought it'd seem romantic-"

Dear Lottie- Yeah, no. You handed the envelope right back and biked away. I won’t write to 'some girl' (Especially not the girl you like) You had scolded, biking away amidst his many protests. But, much to your dismay, a call from the electric company expecting their minimum pay of $50 caused you to stop the desperate quarterback in the hallway. "Fifty bucks. One letter. After that, you're on your own."

'Dear Lottie Matthews, I think you're really beautiful, even if you were ugly I'd wanna know you. Because you are smart and nice too. It's hard to find all of those things in one girl, but even if you we're only two of those things, I'd be into it--

Yeah, Paul needed a lot of help. And unfortunately for you, money was scarce and times were dire.

So you wrote love letters to Lottie Matthews.