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Miss Weathers groaned as the elevator doors opened in front of her.  Work had been hell that day and she summoned all the energy she could to keep from just dragging her feet.  She didn't even have the energy to stop by Frank's door and leave the latest letter.  Perhaps in the morning she could leave early enough and stop by his apartment to drop off the letter.  Why couldn't this building have been built with a connecting hallway between the two sections?  Even if it had been built as a "U" shaped, that would have been OK too...

Even as she reached into her purse for her key, she happened to notice the letter sitting at the toes of her shoes... and the rose.  She blinked for a moment, keys forgotten about as she knelt down to pick the two items up.  Her coat was over her arm and the mail tucked into the crook of her arm as she stood up, the letter and rose in hand.  A cream colored rose in full bloom was laid at her doorstep along with the letter.  Frank had been here...

Quickly she fished out her keys and unlocked her door.  Frank had been to her door, he knew who she was and where she lived.  Strangely enough, she didn't feel panicked or frightened.  Perhaps it was the letter she'd found yesterday that had set her blood pounding and gave her renewed hope that he didn't think she was plumb nuts.

Ignoring Quills and dropping her things on the kitchen table, she opened the letter and wandered into the bedroom as she read it.  The rose was held to her nose as her eyes drank in the words he wrote:

'At last I know who you are.  I pray that my assumptions are correct, Miss Weathers.  I also pray that this letter, and its gift, has found the right door.

'If this is indeed the right lady, then I am relieved beyond words.  I still carry a mental picture of our brief encounter last night.  I find myself, as I work my way through the hours, recalling the color of your eyes, my Hope.  Such a pale shade of green that it reminds me of the first buds of trees in spring.

'But I ask myself, if it was you that I bumped into, why were you in tears?  Gerard tells me that he saw you in tears when you changed elevators last night.  Please tell me that it is not my doing dear Hope.  Your eyes, they tell your soul, just as you say mine do.  They were wide in shock or realization as the doors to the elevator closed.  Did you realize that it was I whom you wrote to?  Or did you realize that perhaps I am not all that you thought I would be?'

Hope smiled as she read the letter, the rose still drifting under her nose as she slid down onto her bed.  Across the courtyard, Frank watched the woman through the window.  He had found the right apartment then.  Disappointment coursed through him after he arrived home to find no letter from her.  Even more disappointment hit him when he saw her lights come on and her with the letter in hand.  He checked his door and found still nothing from his Hope.  Maybe she hadn't written anything for him after finally seeing him in person.

Hope closed her eyes and leaned back on the headboard.  She pulled the rose and letter to her heart even as she felt herself slipping into sleep.  She really should answer his letter, let him know that she had not abandoned him now that she had seen him, heard him, touched him.  Tomorrow... tomorrow she'd write a letter to him and leave it at his door... perhaps with a gift as well.

Frank watched as Miss Weathers leaned back and apparently fell asleep.  A frown creased his forehead as he kept watching and she didn't move.  'Aha...' he thought.  'So that explains it.'  A mischievous thought crossed his mind and he turned from the window.  Maybe she was a light sleeper.

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