Dash for your pants

I love passing flirty love notes in class

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The art of romantic letter writing. Its been replaced by emails. Mostly. Instead of a shoebox of crinkly old letters that I keep in my closet, I have a folder in my hotmail account thats filled to the brim. Searchable, sortable, storable. I could even import them into excel and write macros for them if I so desired.

But it might be nicer, one dreamy afternoon, to open the box and smell the contents. And to spill some on my lap, randomly reading bits and pieces, tracing the words with my fingers. Then carefully tucking it all away for next time.