You’re three minutes early.
Precision. Accuracy is like gold to me…plucked straight from a wisdom tooth.
Well, despite that having something like zero to do with precision, that is philosophic, like…ah…Plato the Dentist. I hope this nugget was worthy of extraction?
Oh, certainly. This time.
Not every time. Not everything is a lovely story arc written in whispery prose. You know.
So what’s her name? This girl you’ve brought such a long distance to meet me?
Pretty name for an invisible girl. And is she the only reason we’re here or are there other reasons?
Several. But she’s the principal ingredient. The base note in a tone poem, really.
She doesn’t know anything about your – ah – time away? Where you’ve been and why you haven’t written? You haven’t written her, have you?
They wouldn’t allow it. Something about emotional connections needing proper…how was it put…grounding?...to survive. I don’t know. But we met anyway.
In the facility?
Wherever we could. I told her she could grow old and curvy and get gray and grumpy but…she couldn’t lose her smile. That’s everything to me. Men fight for that.
Where did you first meet, then? If you were watched and your time was restricted…
At the movies. When the lights were hushed and everyone had their eyes pierced by the picture as it stroked their souls.
Was she alone?
She spoke to me with the softest smile. How many languages do you speak? She spoke all of them…we made love in the darkness.
In the theater? How…
Seven nights straight…in the back of the theater. She stepped off the screen and we met in the booth while the projectionist dozed during coming attractions. I think she was bored, but I was alive.
Wait, was that the theater where the projectionist…?
She needed a place with warmth and charm…
And isn’t a human the best vessel made to house an angel waiting to be born?