I was walking around the neighborhood today and right in the middle of the sidewalk was a distraught young couple. They looked about 15, the girl had dirty white jeans on, the guy had an enormous coat. They were talking intently and seriously, standing very closely together. They stopped talking when they saw me coming and the girl coolly stepped aside a few inches to let me pass–it didn’t matter, the whole neighborhood new they were in terrible love. A few feet away from the couple lay a torn up letter. “Aha,” I thought to myself. “Love’s truth laid out in a note.” On my way back from my walk I found the couple gone but the letter still on the ground. The first page was torn into little biddy pieces, but the second page remained intact:

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“So when your in tacoma don’t talk to no guys, or you will break our love and our love will die. I’ll do the same and not talk to women, so it’s just gonna be Mark-n-Fern to the end.”