Fugue #69

- I’ll pick you up, then?
- No, I’ll meet you there.

Marbell’s Midsummer Night’s Party. Paul’s late, sweaty, in khakis and a short sleeve white oxford. He looks around the rooftop veranda - there’s Marbell, and Zed, there’s Enbal and...whoa, Ana.

She has a surprise for Paul.
- There are some perks to modeling.
- I’ll say. That dress is....wow, you look great.
- Thanks.

She blushes, lightly checks the strap over her left shoulder and pushes the hair off her forehead, back with an open hand, and holds her wrist in front of her. She looks down, looks up. So does Paul (there’s alot to see). They look up. Their eyes meet.
- Happy Anniversary.
- What?
She’s blushes again, embarrassed.
- I’m sorry, Ana.
- That’s ok. It was a year ago, tomorrow actually, that we met.
- On the stairs?
- You were going up.
- And you were going down, on your way to that concert.
She smiles, weakly.

After the party, after Paul walked her home from the subway, she’s sad again. It’s late, and she steps out of her dress, and into a t-shirt. She goes to the bathroom to pee, to take off her makeup, and to brush her teeth. Then bed. She flicks on her bedside lamp. On her pillow, a daisy with its stem tucked under the covers, and a note:

Thank you for a great year.
Love,
P