Maureen,
I'm not sure what to write, I've got so much to say. First of all, thank you for being Collins' best friend. I know he's going to need you even more once I'm gone, so thanks for that. I love your protests, keep doing them. Anarchists like you and Collins are going to change the world. Keep loving Joanne, I know she gets frustrated with you sometimes, but it's only because she's jealous. She doesn't want to have to share you with the rest of the world, which I can understand. But you girls are meant to be together, I know it. I hate this hospital. Thanks for visiting me so often, and not getting all weird and sentimental. Remember that day when I said I hated how there was no color in the room? Well, bringing a photo collage of all of us and putting it up on my wall was pretty much the best thing ever. My dear, there is no other way to say this, you're fabulous. I really love your sense of fashion, and even though I could never pull it off, you inspire me and my drag daily. I'm going to miss your loud, random outbursts, your songs, and optimistic attitude.
I believe in you,
Angel
Maureen smiled. Out of all her fan mail, this letter was her favorite. She read it whenever she felt down, because it lifted her up. Then she pinned it back up on her wall, right next to Joanne's love letters that she had saved.
She stood in front of her closet, closely examining her dresses. "Red or dark purple?" she asked herself. Maureen's show's opening night was tomorrow, and she still didn't know which dress to wear. Joanne, who was coming as her date, was wearing black. "Angel," she said. "What would Angel do?"