I had spent days afterward looking for Ansel. Looking for the answers to my own life that he seemed to have and I didn’t. I spent hours drifting along that same street corner, hoping…waiting.

At night, I had silent dreams of pleasant places by the sea. I had rarely dreamed before I met Ansel, and now it seemed as if I never stopped dreaming.

What was the key to his knowledge?

What was this power he had over me all of a sudden?

On Tuesday, I checked my mailbox in the lobby. Inside was a red heart cut out from construction paper, like the valentines i never got in the first grade. It was addressed to me, Antonie Bertrand, 112 rue de Martin # 16.

I turned it over and read the writing.

Antonie, you have a beautiful soul. See you at Madame Yvonne’s.