I just finished a masterful work of melancholy by O’ Henry’s named The Furnished Room. The plot revolves around a young man’s search for a young woman. He rents a room and ends up committing suicide in it, not realizing that it is the same room that woman he searches for did the same thing in earlier. The story has a vivid sense of atmosphere in it that suggests that all places hold a trace of the occupants that once lived there. In this case, the man catches the faint odder of the woman’s perfume. It stirs him to search every inch of the room in vain. The sweet smell of the perfume becomes the smell of the gas, which he turns up after succumbing to his anguish.