Link
It was a warm spring night and he smelled the earth and the grass she was walking through. She was with a friend but they had left briefly. She was the kind that walked through people at night and in the streets, and she knew he would be the perfect victim. He asked her what time it was; she stretched her neck to see up at her wrist and said, "I gotta get out of here for a bit" and then sashayed off, as though she had been summoned by a telephone cord.
He saw in her the same thing every other man was looking for, that lure of being desired, and thus he followed close behind. It wasn't the first time at night, and it wouldn't be the last. She slowed down, the moon lighting the right side of her face, the gentle swell of her lips, her nose, slightly turned up at the end, her blue eyes, endless and searching. He stopped, his breath heavy and fast. She stopped and slowly turned around, a smile breaking slowly across her face.
They were just outside a small park, around them the city streets were silent as they walked towards a bench. It was covered by the shadows from the few street lights and then the moonlight, it was very dark in the center of the park. It occurred to him that it was possible to be killed there and no one would care, and then he thought, who would notice? He was middle-aged, a scientist. He had a nice house in the suburbs, a beautiful wife and two handsome sons. She was young and beautiful, you don't see many girls like this in the city. But he couldn't stop himself, she was in front of him, composed and intelligent. She told him she was a dancer and wondered about his life, about his job, about his thoughts and dreams. He wanted her to tell something about herself, but instead she would tell him about the people around them.
"People look like ants from up here," she said.
But she was different from everyone else because he saw something new in her, something that was missing from his life. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but he was drawn to it. He didn't sleep that night; he spent it thinking about her. So, the next night after work he went to the same place and she was there. He did the same routine they were both used to, he bought her a drink and they began to talk. He asked her if she could be his girlfriend, and she asked him if she could see his house.
She told him she liked to be in the center of everything and if he wasn't interested in her she understood. But he did.
They began a relationship and he took her to the places he knew, she would wander the city with him, she introduced him to new ideas, she expanded his vision, and the city seemed like something new to him. It became a bit lonely, because he was no longer seeing her every day, even though it wasn't that much time. Then one day he found a note she had left for him: "This is the first time that I have done this, please don't be mad, but I have to go west, I hope to see you soon. I love you. I wish I could tell you why."
He found out why, when she was at the airport, getting on the plane to Los Angeles. He flew there and tracked her down and he tried to get her to come back. He was very proud about her work, the work she was doing was amazing. He tried to get her to work out more, to lose a few pounds and he appreciated that she would teach him how to dance; she was young and beautiful, they had a lot in common, and they had led their lives so differently.
She agreed to come back and she told him that she really felt like she was something special, so they started dating, then they got engaged, then they got married and they had one child, a girl, who was the same kind of perfect, happy child that she had been.
He was poor, he is poor still. He comes home every day, goes to sleep every night, he drinks, he eats the same kind of food every day, but he misses the good times, he misses her smile. Sometimes he sees her walking in the street, sometimes he is at their home, and drinks, and eats, and remembers how it used to be, how it felt.