Three weeks back, Evan sat alone in his apartment. He reached across the
bed and found it empty. Ophelia had gone to work. No, she had said there
were no rehearsals that day. Where had she gone? He phoned her at home. No
answer. He went to the café. She never showed up.
Maybe she will show up tomorrow he thought to himself.
But she would not. Nor would she call. Evan thought of waiting outside her house. He began walking toward the townhouse when he realized he did not want to stalk the woman. Was she breaking it off with him? Was this all to avoid a hurtful breakup? No. They had had a wonderful time together.
As the third day came, he passed her house to make sure she was still alive. She was very much alive. She was off to rehearsal. Rehearsal! That was it! Evan knew in less than three weeks Ophelia's show began. He would go to her on opening night. She could never refuse him then.
For nearly three weeks, Evan sat at his typewriter thinking of her. Anything he put on paper had something to do with Ophelia. He still could not stop thinking. He hoped he would not have to attend uninvited. He prayed to God she would phone him. She would not. His near three weeks ended and he found himself in the back row of the playhouse.
Evan paid no attention to what was happening on stage. He could only see Ophelia. She glanced toward his direction. She always knows when I'm staring he thought. The curtain dropped on the play and he applauded with the rest of the audience. Unlike the audience, he went stayed after the applause. He glanced every way looking for his beloved. After fifteen minutes, he found her. He found Ophelia in the arms of another man.
She had left him! Those nights meant nothing to her and now she meant nothing to him. Evan left the playhouse alone. Ophelia could prove that he meant nothing to her. That much was obvious; but he would be suspected to be alone and miserable. Then he saw it. A sign saying:
Writers Wanted
That was it. He would go to rehearsals as a writer, perhaps with other women. This was how he would prove he was fine. But was it really moving on? Was it just an attempt to make her jealous?
Maybe she will show up tomorrow he thought to himself.
But she would not. Nor would she call. Evan thought of waiting outside her house. He began walking toward the townhouse when he realized he did not want to stalk the woman. Was she breaking it off with him? Was this all to avoid a hurtful breakup? No. They had had a wonderful time together.
As the third day came, he passed her house to make sure she was still alive. She was very much alive. She was off to rehearsal. Rehearsal! That was it! Evan knew in less than three weeks Ophelia's show began. He would go to her on opening night. She could never refuse him then.
For nearly three weeks, Evan sat at his typewriter thinking of her. Anything he put on paper had something to do with Ophelia. He still could not stop thinking. He hoped he would not have to attend uninvited. He prayed to God she would phone him. She would not. His near three weeks ended and he found himself in the back row of the playhouse.
Evan paid no attention to what was happening on stage. He could only see Ophelia. She glanced toward his direction. She always knows when I'm staring he thought. The curtain dropped on the play and he applauded with the rest of the audience. Unlike the audience, he went stayed after the applause. He glanced every way looking for his beloved. After fifteen minutes, he found her. He found Ophelia in the arms of another man.
She had left him! Those nights meant nothing to her and now she meant nothing to him. Evan left the playhouse alone. Ophelia could prove that he meant nothing to her. That much was obvious; but he would be suspected to be alone and miserable. Then he saw it. A sign saying:
Writers Wanted
That was it. He would go to rehearsals as a writer, perhaps with other women. This was how he would prove he was fine. But was it really moving on? Was it just an attempt to make her jealous?
