Page 3 of Xavier

“You forget that you have an assistant who anticipates your every need? That’s not usually something people should take for granted,” he scoffs.

“I guess I’m just that independent.”

“Get them signed, Mr. Independent, or the seven-figure loss is coming out of your bonus.”

There’s a click on the line and I shove the phone back into my pocket just as I cross the last street to my apartment building. From here I can already see Martin, the doorman, at his post by the door even though it’s past midnight.

"Hey, Martin," I say, pulling my hand out of my pocket to hold it out to him. "Busy night?"

He takes my hand and gives it a good pump and smiles.

"The busier, the better, Mr. Kent," he says as he lets go of my hand and reaches for the door, pulling it open for me.

Just as I step past him a golden glint catches my eye. My body pivots, involuntarily, following the cab that is hurtling down Second Avenue. I feel my legs move under me, running to follow the cab. What I doing? I'm just imagining it, it can’t be! But my legs don't listen. They’re just a blur against the night, chasing down a yellow New York taxicab at one a.m. As if they’re trying to break the light barrier and sprint myself into the past. Ahead, the taxi’s back lights glow red and it comes to a stop. I can’t believe my luck. I’m gaining. Only another hundred feet ahead. That's all there is between me and…

The door opens and a woman steps out, she flips her hair and for a moment, it’s like a golden silken fan over her face. I hold my breath. She closes the taxi door and straightens up, her hair falling down her back.

And I see her.

She is beautiful.

But a stranger.

I trace the lines of her face, comparing. And she comes up short.

I don’t realise I’m staring until she frowns, uncomfortable with the inappropriate social interaction.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” I say, holding up a hand by way of apology. “I thought… I thought you were someone else.” I force myself to look away.

Fatigue suddenly drags through every cell of my body as I slink back to my apartment building. A little older, a little wiser, and somehow, even though I thought it was impossible, a little bit more hopeless.