Misha:

I smile while reading her letter.
She misses me.
In the Fifth Grade, our school teachers organized a pen pal program.
Thinking I was a girl because my name is Misha, they assigned me to correspond with Ryan, who they thought was a boy because of his name.
We got along incredibly well and soon began to argue about everything: Which is the best pizzeria, whether Androids are better than iPhones, if Eminem is the greatest rapper of all time.

For the next 7 years, we existed as Us.
Her letters were always on black paper with a silver border.
Sometimes one would come a week, other times three a day. I need them. She is the only one who understands me, calms me, and accepts everything I am.
There were only three rules: We would not exchange social media, phone numbers, or photos. We had created something unique, why ruin it?