July 13, 1959
I miss you terribly. It has been too long since I felt your touch, the warm breath on the back of my neck. I ache for you, Colby, and long to relive our time in the hayloft, and the potting shed, and the couch.
I don't know why I mentioned the couch last.
I know you will never read this letter, for you left no address behind when you disappeared back to the future. I do it for myself, I think, to help salve my soul, and the void you left behind. You were the light of my life, dearest Colby. You entered it like a flash of light, in truth, stumbling forward, asking what year it was. Shell-shocked, from the war, I thought, though the war had ended a solid decade earlier.
My friends think I'm a fool for falling for you. They say no man can travel through time. But they're fools -- simple, petty fools. They did not know you like I did, nor did they experience your bizarre language and customs, which could only come from the future. "Yolo swag money, fam," you whispered to me tenderly, and I believed every word of it. You spoke in such riddles, dearest Colby. I suppose you were one yourself.