Suzette stared lovingly at her beloved sitting across the table from her. It was Sunday, so they were on a date. She raised a finger and traced along the outline of his chin, gently lifting off a track of bread crumbs. Hmm! His curly brown hair bobbed up and down as he munched his sandwich, and he nodded as if agreeing with something,…the sauce? Or the water he tried to gulp down, with a cloud of…ick! – flowing from his mouth into the glass. And the sticky little finger prints that he left behind after he set the glass down. He wiped his mouth with the back of the other hand, the one holding his sandwich. A piece of it fell onto the table cloth. No, no, use the napkin! It lay nicely folded at the corner of the table, utterly neglected….Suzette came to a sudden realization.

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“Jonathan’s a bastard.”

“Is he?”

Beatrice smiled sweetly. Solomon looked sideways at her through the fingers of his right hand. How pretty she looked, wearing her black wool coat and black wool hat that covered her thin yellow hairs, sipping black coffee in the dim lighting, carefully and painfully, he thought. They were sitting together by the window of some coffee shop somewhere where the light seemed gloomiest, as the night had a tendency to creep in through the windows and steal the light away.

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