But there had been no stuttering stranger on Wednesday. And Paola left four years ago, taking our two-year-old son to live in the lowland city where she had been born. Dear Martina was gone—the only casualty of an unexplained fire that consumed the laboratory where she’d worked alongside my professional rival and best friend, Dr. Santiago Real.
No, there was only the bistro, our disagreement, the bitter words with which Anyssa left me on the sidewalk, and the book I found on the white linen cloth when I returned to the table to nurse my pride with bad wine.
Note: See But Wait! There’s More…. for an explanation of the 100 Words project. Read the previous installment or the next one.
© 2008 Edward F. Gumnick
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