The first thing Tony did when he got home every day was lock the apartment door. It was a shady area he lived in, a small neighborhood in Seattle, and the place itself was practically falling apart. Dishes piled up in his sink, part of the ceiling in the corner was caving in, and there was junk scattered everywhere. Sometimes the doors would fall off their hinges when he tried to open them, and there was an ever-present squeaky floorboard that hadn't been fixed for years no matter how much he pestered the landlord. The apartment was all he could afford, though, living off a teacher's salary.

The second thing he did was grab a beer from the fridge. He would normally sit down at the kitchen table and turned on the TV to watch a crime drama or a sports game – whatever was on, he really wasn't picky. Living alone had its perks. He burped as loud as he wanted and didn't have to fight for the remote. But he got lonely sometimes, as most people would.

On this particular night, though, he sat down at the table, pushing piles of ungraded papers out of the way, and sifted through his mail (which was always junk – junk and bills). It was a rainy April afternoon, and while he was sorting through the envelopes, a large white one caught his eye.

"What the hell is this?" Tony muttered. Turning it over, he double-checked the address. His name was written on the front. He squinted at the return address – it had come all the way from Albuquerque, New Mexico. He didn't know anyone from Albuquerque. Tearing open the envelope almost wearily, he wondered who it could be from.

The first thing that he pulled out of the envelope was a photograph. A man with brown hair and striking blue eyes was laughing, his arms wrapped around a gorgeous girl from behind. Her wavy, dark hair was blowing in the wind, just like her blue sundress. The man looked vaguely familiar.

There was also a folded sheet in the envelope, and Tony pulled it out to take a look. He unfolded the paper carefully to see graceful, looping handwriting scattered on the page.

Hi Tony,

I hope this letter finds you well. You probably don't remember us at all. We were passing strangers in your life, for one incredibly brief moment. But you changed our lives, and we thought you should know that.

I found your contact information by contacting the ski resort where you used to work. That's where we crossed paths – that ski resort, in 2006. My name is Gabriella Montez. I'm in the picture with Troy Bolton.

Tony stopped reading and furrowed his brow. He knew that name – Troy Bolton. The basketball star?

You pulled us out of the crowd for karaoke at the New Year's party. I was incredibly shy, didn't really want to be there, if I'm honest. Neither did Troy. But we got forced up there anyway. You said we might thank you one day. This is that day, I suppose. This thanks is long overdue.

We're getting married in September. And it's partly thanks to you. That one karaoke performances shaped our lives more than you could ever realize. So here we are, finally saying it. Thank you.

He remembered the moment now – two shy teenagers, clearly not partiers. But it had been his job, then, to force people to do bad karaoke. But they'd been good at it. They'd been good together. He'd seen them walk outside together afterwards, assumed they might share a kiss at midnight. Never anything like this. In spite of everything, he felt the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile.

I attached an invitation to the back of the paper. You don't have to come, not if you don't want to – but I know I would really like to thank you in person. So would Troy.

Just know that we're grateful. And you helped us in an unfathomable way. Without you, we never would have found each other. You truly changed our lives.

Sincerely,

Gabriella Montez

Tony flipped the letter over when he finished reading it, and sure enough, there was a wedding invitation taped to the back of it.

"What do you know?" he mused, taking another sip of his beer. He stood up, walking over to his fridge and taping the letter to the front of it.

Maybe he'd ask that cute English teacher to be his date.

After all, if that letter gave him anything at all – it was hope.