Hopeless romantic lettering flash sheet

Her brother Tomasz came in with the post and stood reading the sheet upside down, which was how he read everything. He asked whether the keyhole was a joke. She said it was a keyhole. He said keyholes were for getting in, and she said that was exactly the joke, and he laughed the way he did when he was trying not to be kind about something.

She had meant to sell the sheet to a studio in Bethnal Green who paid for stencils on commission. Instead she sat on the step with a tin of pink wash and filled the hearts one at a time, holding each brush stroke to the light so the stipple didn't pool. The arrows she left plain. Arrows, she decided, were for people who still expected to be hit.

By dusk the last heart was pale and wet and the lettering had gone glossy in the streetlamp. Tomasz took the sheet down, rolled it carefully, and slid it into the tube for the courier. Nah, she said to nobody, and watched it go.