"Dear Dad . . ."
Jasper Salisbury's handwriting was as wild as his hair. But his dad never minded. From across the country, he collected those scribbled letters week after week and month after month, until piles turned into boxes and boxes turned into bins as tall as his tiny home.
Jasper's mother was never much of a letter-believer, though. "Things of the past," she'd say, basking in the glow of her computer and tic-tac-ing at her keyboard, as a ping of an email indicated "You've Got Mail."
There existed a world between his two parents and many worlds between Jasper and them. If time travel existed, he believed he would be found in a letter.
And one day, he was.