I honestly think this one might be my worst so far, but I am compelled to post it anyway. I was writing at around midnight last night/morning, so be kind in your judgements, lol.

Marshall found the note about a month after it had been written.

Unbeknownst to him, it had been hiding in his house, in a picture frame. The picture was of him and Mary, when neither of them knew they were being watched, much less photographed. Mary was at her desk, looking at something on her computer screen and smiling. Marshall was leaning over shoulder, looking on with an identical smile on his face. What they were looking at, Marshall couldn't remember, but it was undoubtedly his favorite picture. He kept it in his bedroom, on his nightstand.

The only reason he even found the note was because the frame broke.

After losing a witness as well as a friend in an explosion and then spending a very long drive home trying to help Brandi with her English paper, Marshall was a wreck. He had thrown a bit of a fit, tossing a pillow across the room and knocking the picture frame onto the floor, where it shattered loudly.

The sound had shocked him out of his distraught "temper tantrum", and he sadly went over to pick up the pieces. Then he found it, hiding behind the picture. His hands, though he'd never admit it, had shook slightly as he reached for the note.

Though it seemed unlikely normally, he just knew that Mary was the only one who would leave him a note like this, especially in that picture. He had sat on the bed to read it, avoiding the glass on the floor. It was definitely Mary's handwriting, and there were lots of words and lines scribbled out, as if she couldn't make up her mind as she wrote.

"Hey, Marshall. You're probably wondering why I'm writing this, let alone in your house. Don't freak out, I'm not a stalker. It's just…the doctors won't let me see you, and I can't stand the idea of home right now. So, I came here. Thanks for not dying. And for a lot of other things, but mainly for not dying. I really appreciate it. And I appreciate you. I'm sorry I don't show it more, but I do. I really don't have any idea what I'd do without you around to annoy me senseless, and cover my ass when there's trouble. Oh wow, that sounds all sorts of sentimental. Sorry, it's just I'm not good at this sort of thing. Look… basically what I'm trying to say is that even though I may not show it, I really do care about you, and appreciate everything you do for me. You're definitely my hero. I don't know if you'll ever find this note… well, it's more of a letter now, but if you do, don't mention it to me. It's hard enough writing this without knowing you've read it. Just don't mention it, and please, don't act weird about it. I love you Marshall. Don't leave me, okay? - Mary"

Marshall had had slight tears in his eyes after he finished reading, but he ignored them and re-read the note/letter about three times. Whether Mary meant she loved him in the way he hoped or in the way that you normally love your best friend he didn't know, but it didn't matter.

Now as he sat at his desk doing his (and some of Mary's) paperwork a few days later, he looked over at her and smiled. She smiled back, and then turned to look back at her screen.

She didn't act like she had written him a dysfunctional yet heart-felt letter, and Marshall didn't act like he had received one.

Marshall could almost feel the letter burning a hole in his breast pocket, right over his heart where he now kept it, and he thought over her words. "I love you Marshall. Don't leave me, okay?"

He smiled, because he knew he had no intention of ever doing so.