I leave my job in the parking lot (we’re never busy anyway) to sneak a quick lunch with Rowe. She’s very depressed, in worse shape than I’ve ever seen her, down and bedraggled, very glad I’ve come to support her, almost pathetically grateful, even kissing the side of my hand as I take hers consolingly, hanging on to me, not in a romantic way at all, but a needy one.

She also hands me a lengthy letter, four pages on post it notes shaped like a heart, her handwriting scribbled all over. Obviously, I’m dying to read it and want to spend more time with her but decide I’d better run over and check on the lot first.

When I get there it’s chaos – long lines of honking cars, trying to get in and out past the closed gates at the entrance and exit. My boss is there too and he’s quite angry. I make up a quick story – I had to run home to get something important and my cat got out and I had to chase it around the neighborhood, it’ll never happen again, usually there’s no one here at this time of day, etc. and as I’m usually a model employee he grudgingly forgives me as I straighten everything out quickly – but I never get back to Rowe and, of course, wake up before I can read the letter.