Dear Caleb,

Hi, and this is awkward. You go to my church. You probably don't remember me. Then again, Caleb, you might. There was that one time, when we all went down to your family's lake and swam. And we cooked out hot dogs and burgers and drank Cokes until we got so hyper that we all jumped into the freezing cold lake and got cramps, 'cause we ate too fast and jumped into the lake without waiting thirty minutes. I was the blonde girl, who had the big smile? At least, that's what people tell me.

The preacher dedicated a sermon to you. He was preaching about how you were doing God's duty, fighting out in the war, defending people and all. It was good. I wish you had been there to play guitar and sing with the worship band with me. I sang a song for you last Sunday. But you probably don't remember me, do you? So it's irrelevant. Anyway, I sang a song, and people started crying. I don't get why. I don't have a good voice really, I just sing it, honestly, but I guess it was good. If I could send you the video I would. Would it make you cry?

I'm rambling now. Anyway, how's being overseas? Is it hard work? Wait, that's a dumb question- of course it is. Now, since you don't remember me, you think I'm just that little dumb girl from your church, who can't even ask a question right. Oh well. I do try.

I know you went to that private school, so do you miss school? I wouldn't. People can be mean.

Oh yes! Maybe you do remember me. We talked about Foo Fighters and the Killers (my two favorite bands, contrary to popular belief) and you seemed to be really nice. And then that one time you were in the talent show and I came to see you. You told me hey and you sang a Foo Fighters song and played guitar. I thought it was really good. And I told, you, too!

Huh. Maybe you do remember me.

I hope this letter wasn't a waste of your time. I just felt the need to write you...