A man steps up behind me. I turn like a weathervane spun by a wind to face him.
"How nice of you to come," I tell Jon. I can't help looking around him for a woman to sidle up to his side protectively.
"I'm alone," he says. "Interesting work you've been doing. Was there a premium on green and yellow? Or perhaps a sale on white?"
I laugh because he knows what I've done. I laugh because he's looking at the hint of nipples behind my sheer blouse. I laugh because I can't cry.
or, The Beginning