Once he found the place, he visited every year; oddly fascinating, to see your name carved into the stone with dates from another century. The press made a huge deal about the annual visit, which amused him to no end. If they only knew the real mystery behind the mystery. Poe moved slowly away from his grave, an old man now. He spied a woman a couple of monuments over who reached out to that marker tentatively, almost in disbelief. He wondered if she, too, had found her own name and history.