Dear ________,

Sharpie markers used to have the admonition NOT FOR LETTER WRITING on them. Now they don’t.

When I think about why, I imagine a shy, quiet guy who works at the Sharpie pen factory.

His job is to put the caps on the pens. He is madly in love with this shy, quiet receptionist who types up reports about the inventory of the pen caps. He picks up one of the markers, and studies it. It says NOT FOR LETTER WRITING. He sighs, puts down the pen, and goes back to putting the caps on the pens as they come down the assembly line.

At lunch, he asks an old coworker why Sharpie Ultra Thin markers are NOT FOR LETTER WRITING. The coworker looks into the distance, as if he can see the past, far, far away.

“I sorted out markers by color. She typed out reports of the sales figures of the different colors of Sharpie Ultra Thin markers.”

The younger man suddenly remembers the sight of an older woman sitting next to the object of his affection,

“I was overcome with passion,” the older man says. “I picked up a Sharpie Ultra Thin marker, and  wrote a letter on a sheet of paper. The muse was with me that day, and the words shimmered as I got to the end of the page.”

A look of pain crosses the older man’s face.

“I eagerly flipped it over to the other side to finish. To my horror, I saw that the ink had bled through, and that any writing on the second side was impossible.”

The older worker wipes away a tear.

“By the time I tracked down another sheet of paper, the words had fled. All I had was a half-finished letter.”

The older colleague takes a folded, faded sheet of paper from his pocket with words on one side that have bled through to the other.

“I almost died of a broken heart,” the older man says, “and I told the chairman of the board about it, and right then and there, he decided that Sharpie ultra-fine markers were NOT FOR LETTER WRITING.”

Nodding his head with a look of numb acceptance, the younger man goes back to his toasted cheese sandwich.

Then, at the far, far end of the table, the younger man sees something that makes his eyes widen. It's me, writing myself into this story, scribbling out my daily love letter to my wife.

The man walks over to me “how can you do that when Sharpie Ultra Fine markers are NOT FOR LETTER WRITING?”

“Oh,” I say, “it’s simple. I love writing love letters to my wife, okay? And I love writing with a Sharpie ultra-thin marker. The trouble is the ink bleeds through, so I just buy some cardstock, you know? The ink doesn’t bleed through to the other side.”

The young man reaches into his pocket and clutches a Sharpie ultra-thin marker, a look of hope on his face.

I hold out a piece of cardstock.