Christian was devastated. Satine had once again, went to spend her night with the Duke. Christian knew it wasn't because she wanted to...she had to. "Damn you Duke!! You ruin EVERYTHING" Christian screamed at nobody. "What was that Christian?" Toulouse asked, putting his head through the hold in the wall. "Oh nothing Toulouse" "Alrite, goodnight Christian" Toulouse said, retreating from the hole. Christian was still in a horrible mood. He continuously looked at his pocket watch. "You said you'd be here by 12!" Christian said to himself. He sat down at his typewriter. "Where are you Satine?" He asked himself, then he began writing.

*Feeling blue, trying to forget the feeling that i, miss, you. Feeling green, When the jealousy swells and it wont go away in dreams. Feeling yellow, im confused inside A little hazy bout my love, But when i feel your eyes on me Feeling fine, when that smile of yours creeps into my mind Nobody told me it feels so good Nobody said you'd be so beautiful Nobody warned me about your smile You're the light when I close my eyes Im colorblind Feeling red, when you night time with the duke and not me, instead. Feeling black, when i think about all of the things that i feel i lack. Nobody told me it feels so good Nobody said you'd be so beautiful Nobody warned me about your smile You're the light when i close my eyes Im colorblind...*

He took the paper out of the typewriter and read it over. "Great" He said to himself. He sat on the edge of his bed, reading his poem over and over again. The door burst open a half hour later and Satine walked into the room. They shared no words, but just embraced each other. They went into bed and fell asleep in each others warmth and comfort. The sun rose the next morning, Christian opened his eyes and could not see Satine anywhere. "Satine?" Christian called out, rubbing his face. He stopped abruptly. "Oh no...not again" He said. He got up and ran into the bathroom, he was not his clean shaven self he had been the night before. He had a beard and he looked a mess. He ran into his room and saw sitting on his bed was his poem. It had all been a dream. Satine had not come to his garret, they had not slept in each others arms, he had simply fallen asleep on his bed and dreamt it all. So he walked around collecting his clothes, getting ready for another day without Satine, without his muse, without his love.