If it weren’t for your socks, I wouldn’t be on this roof. You have far and beyond the best online shop for haunted socks, and the ones you sent me—Blue Argyle Pair #5—must have belonged to the best man ever to be struck by lightning. Ken took the bolt, but you sold the socks. You introduced us. And for that, I need to thank you. He had guts and now he’s super-charged mine. Typing on a roof isn’t easy, but the rain’s just started, so I had to tell you: thanks to you, my sister’s wedding will be a success.
Looking for her gift, I found your shop. I needed more than some egg-shaped teapot. I craved your uncanny matchmaking skills. Carly may be the sister who brings the soufflé when I bring the soda, but I offer effervescence, and you saw that. You looked at my questionnaire responses, considered your host of humanely-harvested, locally-sourced socks, and you knew: Ken was the one for me.