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It was a fairly plain one with the message ‘Be My Valentine’. Inside the card was blank except for the hand-written words ‘Remember the enclosed?’ The handwriting was still unfamiliar. I opened the smaller envelope and drew out the contents. It was a faded Valentine card. I recognised it at once. I didn’t need to open it to see the poem I had written ten years ago. I had sent it to Mary. It had been the first and last time I had sent anything to her. Even when I sent it I had known that it was too late. My memory went back to ten years and two weeks ago. I had asked Mary if I could take her to the Valentine Dance. Her reply was still engraved on my heart. ‘I’m sorry, John. Someone else asked me and I accepted.’ She had hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. ‘Thank you for asking.’ Another peck on the cheek and she was gone. I was heartbroken. For weeks I had been working myself up to asking her. Now I was too late. I still sent her the card I had prepared knowing it was useless. I. I check the ceiling, but can't find a leak. I make a note to call the landlord if it happens again.The next morning, it's the same thing. I call the landlord and leave a voicemail, and then trek down to the laundry room to wash my sheets, since they're all dirty now. There's a young woman already in there, folding her clothes as she takes them out of the dryer."Good morning," she says cheerfully. My ass hurts too much to be cheerful, but I smile back at her."Morning," I say, stuffing my sheets into an empty washer."I don't think we've met before," she says. "I'm Kathryn. I'm in 2B." Henry," I say, "in 4A." The loft?" She stops smiling."Yeah. Why? Is something wrong with it?" I don't know. I just...I've heard things about the place. People say it's haunted, but that's just silly. I do know that there have been a lot of tenants come and go over the past few months. A lot. Most only stay a couple of nights." She finishes folding her clothes, piles them back in her basket, and picks it.
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