Mark gave her cards. 

All the time for every occasion from every conceivable source. 

For instance, once after getting over a cold, Mark gave her a card signed by his “Throat, Nose and Chest,” thanking her for taking care of them the weekend before. 

On another occasion, because she had bought him a vintage 1940’s messenger bag— one much nicer than his, six years old and falling to pieces—she received a thank you card signed “Regards, the 1940s.” 

Once Mark left a card on her pillow: “On behalf of all trees everywhere, can you stop doing such wonderful things?” 

On the week of her 34th birthday, “Entertainment TM” sent her a series of seven cards, one each day, all outlining parts of “The 7 Wonders of Erin’s Birthday,” (Tagline: The pyramids ain’t got shit on this TM). 

Each card was typographically decorated by him, because at some point she happened to take a typography course. She learned things, but Mark always picked up on things so easily. And from mere end-of-day, how-was-your-day conversations.  It did frustrate her slightly. She often sat at her desk paralyzed, unable to put what she learned into action, yet here were Mark’s cards. They were pretty remarkable. Especially for a Literature Professor.

The first Christmas they shared at his family’s home in London, Mark assembled a dossier outlining the Characters, Scenes, and Acts she should expect upon arrival.  He drafted ten pages of detailed information regarding familial structure, potential inter-familial intrigue and drama, and probable events. All this because she was so nervous to meet everyone-at-once, while staying in such close, unknown quarters. The document was sent to her from “The M.H. Festive Consortium in partnership with EAD Foundation for the Entertainment of EAD.”  MH and EAD of course being their initials. 

Much earlier, before they lived together, he once slipped her a card with keys to his “heartpartment.” 

He was very creative, very funny.

Sometimes when she received these notes and novels, she thought he must love her very, very much.

It wasn’t until much later, sitting on the sofa, reading through stacks of cards and notes, that she realized how little she had actually appreciated them back then. She hadn’t appreciated them enough, not as much as she should have, at all.