Dear Dorothy, I spend my days and nights dreaming about this one girl I met at the Fair. We walked together in the parade, and met back at Lou’s afterwards, but I don’t have the courage to talk to her outside the Fair. She works at Ruth’s and passes my workplace every single day on her way to work, and my torture is exquisite, seeing her wander along Main Street, her hair wipping and her petticoat flipping to the beat of my aching heart. She is a dream in pastel colors, painted by an old master with a young heart–so innocent, so….dream-like. Like the sunset on a mild October night.

Dorothy, I am in love! But how do I let her know?

M., Hill Valley


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