To: Shopgirl

From: NY152

Subj: Dear Friend

I like to start my notes to you as if we're already in the middle of a conversation. I pretend that we're the oldest and dearest friends, as opposed to what we actually are, people who don't know each other's names, and met in a Chat Room where we both claimed we'd never been before. "What will he say today?" I wonder. I turn on my computer, I wait impatiently as it boots up. I go on line, and my breath catches in my chest until I hear three little words: You've got mail. I hear nothing, not even a sound on the streets of New York, just the beat of my own heart. I have mail. From you.

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