Writer's Notebook

The moment Katie entered the office she sensed something was different. The tell-tale sheet of paper peeking out from the side of the desk quickly pointed her in the right direction. The overflowing waste-paper felt distinctly out of place in Sean's half of the office. True, Katie had in the past witness him screw up a piece of paper, which promptly disappeared into the said basket. But such an earth-shattering event had occurred maybe three or four times in the six years they had been working together. And never, had he rejected more than one draft.

Katie found herself drawn to basket. She picked out the was of paper and cast a glance at the top one. Her face wrinkled with a frown as she looked at the next sheet. Slowly, she walked across to her desk. Placing the pile of papers in front of her she began to read. Tears came to her eyes. The words were magnificent, electrifying. Why wasn't he satisfied? Yet, wasn't that typical of Sean? The best wasn't good enough. Only the perfect sufficed. And who was he describing? Sean had never let on that he was seeing somebody. So why such an elegiac evocation of beauty? Whose image had so imprinted himself on his mind?

The thought that Sean might return and find her looking through these papers tore her from her reverie. She picked up the pile and was about to carry it back to the waste paper basket when she noticed the rose sitting on her desk beside the phone. Propped up against the vase was a card from which Sean's bold handwriting proclaimed: