Bank 57

“We were perfect together. Until we met.” Misha. I can’t help but smile at the words in her letter. She misses me. In fifth grade, my teacher arranged for us to meet pen pals from another school. She thought I was a girl, named Misha, so the other teacher paired me with her student, Ryan. My teacher agreed, thinking Ryan was born gay. It didn’t take long before we discovered the mistake. In no time, we were arguing about everything. Best takeout pizza. Android or iPhone? Is Eminem the greatest rapper of all time?... And that was the beginning. For the next seven years, it was us. Her letters are always on black paper with silver writing. Sometimes it’s one letter a week or three a day, but I need her. She’s the only one who keeps me on track, comforts me, and accepts me for who I am. We’ve only had three rules. No social media, no phone numbers, no pictures. We had something beautiful. Why ruin it? Until I came across a girl’s picture online. Her name is Ren, she loves Gallo pizza, and she loves her iPhone. What's the possibility? Damn! I want to meet her. I don't expect to hate what I find. Ren hasn't texted me in three months. Something's wrong. Is he dead? Arrested? Knowing Misha, neither of those are a stretch. Without him, I go crazy. I need to know someone is listening. It's my fault. I should have gotten his number or his picture or something. Maybe he's gone forever. Or maybe he's right in front of me, and I won't know it.