In Which I Write Subway

I had an important query for Subway, one that could not wait. So, I sent a letter to their corporate headquarters.

Their reply:

Monica's reply was very kind. She spoke with a tenderness that immediately made me realize we were soulmates. I had to know more. 

Monica's reply:

Monica was becoming distant. She wouldn't even answer my question! However, the information she did provide piqued my interests.  

I waited an agonizing number of weeks for Monica's reply, but none came. Had she received my letter? Was she ignoring me? Did she think me not serious? I had to take matters into my own hands. 

At last, Monica replies!

What's this? She returns my money and has the nerve to send me irrelevant Subway trivia? I needed to make my feelings about this known, and while I'm at it, maybe try to score a free sandwich.

I waited another eon, and nothing came. I grew despondent. I realized that I didn't need a Subway sandwich, or even a Subway store. What I needed was Monica. Would she take me back?

As it turns out, she would not take me back. Our communication froze like a Yeti's huevos in December. I channeled my inner gentleman, and made one last romantic appeal. 

But it was too late. I'd pushed her away forever. I'll never forget you, Monica.