I guess Sam and Patrick went to the same thrift store because their gifts went together.
She took me to her room and stood me in front of her dresser,
which was covered in a pillowcase with pretty colors.
She lifted off the pillowcase, and there I was, standing in my old suit,
looking at an old typewriter with a fresh ribbon.
Inside the typewriter was a piece of white paper. On that piece of white paper, Sam wrote,
“Write about me sometime.”
And I typed something back to her, standing right there in her bedroom.
I just typed. “I will.”
And I felt good that those were the first two words that I ever typed on my new old typewriter that Sam gave me.
We just sat there quiet for a moment, and she smiled. And I moved to the typewriter again, and I wrote something.
“I love you, too.” And Sam looked at the paper, and she looked at me.
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