Running a hand through his short, spiky, platinum blonde hair, he unbuttoned the top three buttons of his starched white shirt and tossed his pinstrip... tie across the back of a chair. It was then he noticed the coffee table. Twin red candles burned next to an array of dishes–sliced meats, cheeses, bread, ripe plums. Two large cushions had been placed on either side. White petals were scattered around the table on the floor. Daisies, he suspected. Her favorite. He looked around the empty. “Darling, not tonight, I’ve got an essay to write.” A few times I called at her flat without prior contact with her, to be greeted by one of her flatmates who would inform me, “Oh, she’s not here Brent. I’m not sure where she is, but I’ll tell her you called.” Formally I would have been invited in to wait for Jackie and be offered a cup of coffee. Now the door was almost being shut in my face. It was the night I decided to wait for her in my old station wagon in the street outside that the. More

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