Dear Dalton Sophie Amado
She struck me as the kind of person who orders obnoxiously long add-ons to espresso beverages: vanilla frap, three pumps of syrup, extra foam, no whip, non-fat milk. The kind of person who goes tanning even though that sort of thing has become less trendy from cancer. The kind of person who folds her underwear and brushes her teeth three times a day. She is clean, but shallow. One of those girls who just wants to have fun but isn’t good at making or sticking to plans. She often has serious cases of FOMO (fear of missing out). She uses the word ironic incorrectly, like that time she wrote her name in the sand along with the date to make fun of the people who Instagram pictures like that, even though she really just wanted to post one for herself. #funinthesun #beachbums #Cali. I knew all of this about Dee without ever meeting her. My friend Sam used to be a barista at a Starbucks in Ladera Ranch, California. One day, he was clearing a table when he found a note that was just sitting there, folded, seemingly untouched though thoroughly edited. He swiped the note and brought it to the back room where all the coffee bags and cups