We never got the chance to meet, you don't even know me. Maybe that is particularly why I'm writing. I feel we could have been close.

I think about you sometimes, not regularly, but your always there in the back of my mind, you know. Some times you creep into my dreams, I wake up crying. But yet I cant understand why. But then it hits me, we'll never get a chance to meet.

Sometimes I dread going on. For the chance of being friends is gone. The chance of us meeting now is less than slim. It's impossible. You slipped away, disappeared one day. You were gone. We didn't even meet.

Sometimes I wonder why I even care, why I worry about someone I never got the chance to meet. But even to this day, stranger, your death still makes me cry.

Yours always,

Randi