The Letter
It sits on the hallway table, waiting for the owner to pick it up. A crisp white envelope with a neatly typewritten address on the front and no return address on the back. No stamp, it has been hand delivered.
Dearest
You probably get hundreds of these every day, let alone every February. And they all probably say the same thing.
This one is slightly different.
This one is an invitation.
On 13th February I will be sitting on a red and white checked blanket in the rose gardens, waiting for you.
I hope to see you there.
Yours forever.