2011-10-16 - 9:50 p.m.
"I don't even know his name. And I like it that way."
Her eyes are rimmed red from crying, but not any more than when she left. She went to a strange address, to see a strange person, and see what would happen. They had sex, talked, and had sex again.
"He was an intellectual," she says with a smirk.
He was playing classical music, and she asked if they could listen to something else. He put on jazz, and she almost laughed. "Something with words?" He didn't have anything for her. She just played something from her iphone.
"'You seem tired,' he told me. And I said yeah, because I've been crying today. Family? he asked. Breakup, I said. Oh. And then he said, 'You did seem to have an afterglow of melancholy.'"
Her eyes are far away. As you cook dinner, she disappears into the shower and into bed.
