The usual disclaimer applies. I ,sadly, do not own these beautiful characters. They are all property of the late, great Jonathan Larson.

Mark

"Mark, tell me you're not filming that same girl again." Roger tossed his leather jacket on the couch and joined me at the windows at the front of the loft.

"She's constant. I like it." I held the camera up to the foggy glass for a few moments more. "And I haven't gotten a shot when it's snowing before so I need to get this while I can. Besides, this is about as close I'll get to interaction with members of the opposite sex. Maureen, Mimi, and Joanne excluded."

He let out a hearty laugh. "Get out from behind that camera lens and then talk to me. If you put yourself out there, you'd have girls putting out for you."

"Why bother? I'm going to die lonely anyway."

"You're not going to die lonely, Mark. Don't be stupid."

I sighed. "Roger, in all the time that we've lived in the loft, how many girlfriends have I had? How many girls have I brought home?"

Roger looked up at the ceiling, obviously thinking. "Well," he said "None. Maureen doesn't count."

I sighed again, this time out of frustration and self-pity. "See? I am going to die alone."

"You've been filming her for what, three weeks now? Just go out there tomorrow morning and talk to her. You know her schedule by now, probably down to a science."

Roger, the now eternal optimist? I don't think so. Even though his attitude has improved lately, there's still the chance that his relationship with Mimi will go south. Until her, I'd begun to think that he was incapable of having a lasting relationship. He's proved me wrong for a good six or seven months now so I guess I'm the fool.

"Don't you have someone else to bother? I'm trying to work here. I'm hoping to actually finish shooting this one and finally cut some film together." I loved Roger, I really did. I enjoyed his company… most of the time. But he was more of a hindrance than a help when I was working.

"Mimi's at work and you know how I hate going to the Cat Scratch while she's on…" Roger trailed off. I knew that he was probably clenching his fists as hard as possible. He has yet to fully accept Mimi's line of work so it's nothing short of difficult for him for him to see her up there.

"Well Maureen is downstairs, why don't you go help her out? I know she's working on a few performance piece and could use some musical accompaniment."

"Mark, just go out there and ask her on a date already. Or coffee! Something! You're obviously sexually frustrated and maybe this chick can get you out of your perpetual slump."

I flicked him off and returned to putting my camera away. I knew the only reason I was angry at him because he was right. "I'm going for coffee, do you want anything while I'm out?"

"Cigarettes, if you don't mind." He called from his bedroom, half-asleep already.

"I'll see you in a little while then." I wrapped my scarf around my neck tightly and grabbed my camera. I hurried down from the top floor, still hoping she'd be on our block. That way, I could follow her a little bit easier and without a rush to figure out which way she went.

After closing the door behind me, I looked to the left. No girl. Just a few homeless men warming their hands over a fire in a garbage can. That would make for some great footage, but I knew I'd kick myself later if I stopped to get it. With a quick glance right, I headed down the block to scour our neighborhood for her.

An hour later, with no luck, I grabbed a cup of coffee from a street vendor and headed back to the loft. Roger could get his own cigarettes.

As I rounded the corner that lead to our street, I smashed straight into someone carrying a large grocery bag.

"Damn it!" Someone shouted as produce and bread rained down on us.

I'm not going to beg for reviews, but it would be really nice to get some critique on this story. I promise that if you review my story, you'll get love in return. Even if you say that it's the shittiest story you've ever read... or something along those lines.

-Ella