Dear Phil Collins,

Sometimes I feel like I talk about myself so much in these letters that I forget about what’s important.  Namely, you: Phil Collins.  How are you doing?  What’ve you been up to?  I wonder what you had to eat today.  How do you like your eggs?  I want to make breakfast for you.

I’m….I’m sorry.  I got carried away again.  You’re just so real to me that I wish I could reach into my stereo speakers and touch your head.  But I’ll have to settle for this correspondence.  Please write back to me.  Please.  Soon.

Yours always,

The Fan.