Remarkable

Anne stuffed her wet curls entirely under a gray cap and grabbed her keys. She was late for work.

Each strike of her boot on the pavement rang out a syllable of his name.

Tra. La. La. La.

Why did she feel this way? How could she feel this way? Impossible!

The subway rattled downtown, and she wondered with unprecedented anticipation what she would do if he were to enter her train car. 42nd Street? 33rd? Would he appear at 28th?

Across from her he would slump. And shove the earbuds back in his ears. His lips would part in an exhale of breath as he ran his fingers through his hair and cast down his eyes. Those lips that were tinged with delicate sadness around the edges. And those downcast eyes and lashes that revealed to her an unfathomable poignancy of character.

And just as her heart was breaking...

He looked up and met her gaze. And saw her. Everything she had been waiting for washed over her, shimmered up her shoulders and sunk down into her chest. She did not know how she knew or why she knew, but he was the elixir. The solution to the nightingale.

Anne got off at Bleecker and walked to work with the violet hour closing around her.

Tra. La. La. La.

The dusky clouds were lined in portentous grays, and for the first time, Anne knew that all that had come before was reasonable. The riddling and riffling of their bodies was merely a preparation for each other.

As she neared the bistro, the lowering sun revealed the approaching night sky as a shroud of incandescent sapphire. The expanse was a luminescent version of her mother's blue velvet bedspread, and Anne wanted to rest her cheek and spread her arms out wide.

She smiled.