Preliminary description courtesy Jason B. McAllister: "It has often occurred to me that it is the could-have-beens, the almost-intimacies, the nearly-met moments that dangle most tauntingly, tantalizingly, hauntingly within the frames that retrospective Viewmaster clicks linger on like a long-drawn sigh, a never fully exhaled cobweb behind me, gathering a bit more dust from each gleaning recollection's touch."

Stacy, how are you tonight? I'm just wondering, that's all. Do you mind if I think of you, though it won't mean a thing? You stood so gracefully, your breeze-blown hair surprisingly long. I almost loved you then, finally struck by eyes I'd seen before. Then I lost the crucial motivation. I told myself, "It's probably for the best." All this time spent waiting for the moment only to let it slip away. I felt like I had glanced your way too much; I couldn't help but to stand in awe. Small stirrings that I had felt before, they came back to mind. The scene was quite unreal; you gazed at me in the blink of an eye. Then as quickly as it had come, the contact was gone. Then I lost the crucial motivation. I told myself, "It's probably for the best." All this time spent waiting for the moment only to let it slip away. Stacy, how are you today? Do you remember me at all? Do you ever wish that we could talk throughout these lonely summer nights? I almost sent you a word today. I nearly sent it off by post. But I could not choose the words with which to win your heart. Then I lost the crucial motivation. I told myself, "It's probably for the best." All this time spent waiting for the moment only to let it slip away.