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.

The End

or, The Beginning