HEY GUISE WARNING DON'T READ IF YOU'RE SUBBED TO MY MYUNGYEOL ONESHOT COLLECTION. OR IF YOU'RE PLANNING TO READ THE NEXT ONESHOT. BECAUSE THIS IS GOING TO SPOIL IT. BIG TIME. AND SPOILERS ARE NO FUN RIGHT GUISE. I'm only posting it here because I can't find an online link to it. and I want you guise to read the original one ^^

but if you're not. hurdur be welcome to read on and just smile gleefully at the article.

A literary love that has lasted

          Sunday, February 8, 1998 (some Long Beach newspaper)

                                    By: Tom Hennessy

            Any one of a dozen heavy topics could have occupied today’s column.

            But Valentine’s Day approaches, and love is in the air.

            So let me share a love story. A few of you may recognize it. While its authenticity cannot be proven, the story has surfaced from time to time for a half century. Currently, it is in vogue on the Internet. The story goes like this:

            While browsing through a secondhand bookstore, Johan Blanchard, a college student in Florida, bought a book of poetry. Back in his dorm, he soon became intrigued not by the poems, but by the notes someone had penciled in the margins. The notes suggested a thoughtful person, an insightful person.

            In the front of the book, he found, in the same handwriting, the name and New York City address of a Holly Maynell, apparently the book’s previous owner. On a whim, he wrote to her, introducing himself, telling how he came upon the book, and commenting on some of her notes.

            Rather to his surprise, she replied. They began corresponding.

John goes to war

            In time, Johan felt they were becoming more than pen pals. He set his sights on a trip to New York. But World War II was at is peak, and John soon suddenly found himself wearing an Army uniform and shipped overseas.

            Still, for the next two years, their letters continued. Each one seemed to bring them closer. John was falling in love. But when he asked Holly to send a photograph, she refused to do so. [“If you really care about me,” she wrote, “it doesn’t matter what I look like.”]

            The war ended. John came home. And arranged, at last, to meet Holly: 7 o’clock on a Friday evening in New York’s Grand Central Station. But how would he know her? “You’ll recognize me,” she wrote. “I’ll be wearing a coat with a rose in the lapel.” At 7, he was in the station, looking for a woman whose hearth loved but whose face he had never seen. At this point, he picks up the story:

            “As I looked, I saw a woman walking toward me, a beautiful woman in a pale green suit. She was lovely, like springtime come alive. As she passed, she smiled, and in sort of whisper, said, ‘Going my way, soldier?’

not what he hoped

            “At that very moment, I saw another woman in a coat with a rose in the lapel. It was, obviously, Holly Maynell. I was taken aback. She was well past 40, with graying hair tucked under a well-worn hat. And she was…well, more than plump.

            “The other woman, the attractive woman, was walking away. And I was torn between wanting to follow her and wanting to stay with the woman who, by mail, had captured my heart.

            “Holly was standing before me, having identified me by the poetry book I was carrying. Instantly, I knew this would not be love, but that it would be precious; a friendship for which I had been and would forever be grateful.

            “Doing my best to hold back my disappointment, I squared my shoulders and said, ‘I’m John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I’m so glad you could meet me. May I take you to dinner?’

            “She gave me a tolerant smile. ‘I don’t know what this is about, son,’ she answered. ‘But a lovely young woman in a green suit just stopped me and asked if I would wear this rose. She said that if you were to ask me to dinner, I should tell you that she is waiting in the big resturant across the street.’

            “ ‘She said it was some kind of test.’ ”