The Last Visit

A young man cannot let his girlfriend go

Mark stood at Kelly’s front door for a few moments, fussing with his collar and brushing off invisible dust—as if straightening up might somehow make everything feel more normal. He pressed the doorbell and listened to its chime echo within the house. Footsteps approached. Mr. Watson opened the door with a heaviness in his eyes. His gaze lingered on Mark before he spoke, quietly but firmly.

“Mark… Kelly’s not here,” he said. “We told you this morning, last night, and the morning before that. She’s not here. She won’t be coming back. Please, go home—and don’t come back tomorrow.” Mark froze, the words refusing to sink in. What did he mean, she won’t be back? Where was Kelly? What was going on?

The door shut gently but decisively.

Inside, Mr. Watson turned to his wife. “It was Mark again,” he said.
Emma looked up from her chair, her voice tinged with disbelief. “What hasn’t he understood?” she murmured. “He was at the funeral last week. But he keeps coming back… he expects to see her here.”

Mark trotted up the stairs to his second-floor apartment, a spring in his step and a smile stretched wide across his face. He pushed the door open with buoyant energy and called out, “Hey Brian! Let’s have a party tonight.”

Brian looked up from the couch, eyebrows raised. “A party?”

“Yeah,” Mark said, practically glowing. “Do you think we can get some people together real quick? I’ll give Kelly a call. She’ll be over and we’ll have a great time. A few beers, maybe some music—just hang out and celebrate.”

Brian’s expression tightened. He hesitated, then gently asked, “Mark… did you go by Kelly’s place again?”

Mark laughed, brushing off the question. “Her dad’s always so serious. Don’t worry, she’ll show up once I call. She loves parties.”

Brian didn’t respond right away. The weight of unspoken truth settled between them, thickening the air.

“You were at the funeral,” Brian said quietly. “You remember, don’t you?”
Mark blinked, confused. “What are you talking about? Kelly’s fine.”

Brian stood up, unsure what to say next. The room was suddenly too quiet.
Mark’s expression shifted, the lightness draining from his face. His eyes narrowed with sudden focus.

“Never mind,” he said, voice steadier now. “I’ve got a math exam in the morning. If I don’t do well, I might not graduate.”

Brian stood frozen, trying to mask his alarm. Graduate? he thought. He’s not even enrolled anywhere. What is going on?

Mark was already pulling out a notebook and muttering something about quadratic equations, flipping pages with determined urgency. The room felt wrong—too quiet, too surreal.

I don’t know what to do, Brian thought. Do I tell him again? Do I call someone? Or do I just stay close and hope he finds his way back on his own?

Mark suddenly stood up, grabbed his keys, and turned to Brian with a look of determined clarity. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “I’m going to get Kelly.”

Before Brian could respond, Mark was out the door, down the stairs, and into the night. He climbed into his car, the engine rumbling to life, and sped off in the direction of Kelly’s house.

That was the last time Brian ever saw him. He waited for hours, unsure whether to call or go looking. The next morning, he learned that Mark never arrived at Kelly’s house. No one had seen him. His car hadn’t been found.

Just… gone.

Weeks turned into months. Brian never stopped wondering what happened to Mark—where he went that night, what he’d been chasing. The police had no answers. Friends stopped asking. Life, as it tends to do, moved on.

Until one rainy Tuesday in October, Brian got a call.

The voice on the other end was calm, clinical. A psychiatric facility just outside town had admitted a man weeks earlier—disoriented, without identification. One of the nurses recognized him from a photo posted online. They asked if Brian would come in.

He did.

The building was quiet, fluorescent lights humming overhead as Brian walked down a hallway lined with closed doors. At the end, he reached the dining room.

There was Mark. He sat alone at a small table by the window, hands gesturing softly, voice low and steady. A second chair sat across from him. Empty.

But Mark was smiling. Listening. Pausing. Responding. “…and you remember that party we were going to have?” he said. “I still have the playlist. You’ll love it.”

Brian stepped closer, heart pounding. Mark turned and gave a bright, warm grin.

“Hey! Kelly and I were just talking about you.”

Brian didn’t speak. He simply sat in the chair beside the one where Kelly wasn’t—and stayed with him awhile.