“I see you,” Lucas said, the words leaving his mouth before his cautious accountant brain could veto them.
But three weeks ago, on a red-eye back from Chicago, he’d met Elara.
“You’re not a rock,” he said. “You’re a harbor.” rendezvous with a lonely girl
The rain on the tin roof of the bus stop sounded like a thousand tiny fingers drumming out a secret code. Lucas checked his watch for the tenth time. 7:52 PM. She was eight minutes late.
She looked at him then, really looked. For a moment, the hollow filled. Her eyes shimmered. “I see you,” Lucas said, the words leaving
“Don’t you ever want to stop?” he asked. “To stay?”
She stood up and walked to a large canvas draped in a white sheet. “I painted this for you,” she said. “But I don’t know if I can show you.” “You’re a harbor
The woman had calmed down. Lucas had fallen in love.