I was walking down the street last Tuesday when he bumped into me. It was cold and I�d wrapped my long jacket tightly around myself. He had done the same, and our elbows knocked. I turned around to say something, and was greeted by familiar eyes, suddenly lit up with recognition.

�Christ! Katie, how the hell are you?� he asked, pulling his scarf down with a smile.

I smiled. �Obviously not in as big a hurry as you are, Nick.�

He laughed. �Oh I�m not in a hurry. It�s just a bit chilly.�

I nodded appreciatively. The people around us were moving quick as a river and we stepped towards a bank to continue talking. �So,� he said, �What brings you in here today?�

�I came to buy a book,� I said, displaying my bag from Chez Livres.

�All the way to,� and he squinted �Chez Livres for a book? Why not Barnes and Noble?�

�It�s in French.�

�Still the scholar, I see. To be honest, I almost didn�t recognize you,� he confessed, leaning in close enough so that I could feel his breath while it was still warm,

and hear his voice at its lowest volume.

I was unsure of how to respond. I�d recognized him as soon as I�d seen the colour of his eyes; in almond, honey brown glory. I smiled too late for it to be taken as a response. It was released into the air of Rockerfeller Centre.

�So, do you want to get some coffee?� he asked quickly.

�Sure,� I answered reflexively. I honestly don�t really like coffee, but I figured it would be worthwhile to catch up with him. I�ve also found myself able to bear espresso shots, because they give you such a jolt of energy a few hours later.

We ordered drinks at the bar, and took them to a table. I took off my hat and scarf, then placed my jacket on the chair and laid them on top. He was looking at me strangely. I looked back at him deliberately. �You know I�ve never seen you with hair this long,� he said, reaching out to touch it. I shied away slightly. �I�m not going to hurt you. It�s just pretty. So�s your dress. I didn�t think you wore stuff like that.�

I smiled, flushed. �Thank you. I do, now.�

�You know,� he said, leaning forward. �You look like an angel.�

My breath caught in my throat. �What?�

�You look like an angel. Your hair like that, and that pale dress and rosy cheeks from the cold. Like a painting or something.�

I stared at him dumbfounded, searching his eyes and his face for an indication of what he meant. How could he know about my angels? How dare he even compare me to one? It seemed to be insulting to the beautiful creatures. We sat in uncomfortable silence.

�What are you up to?� I spat across the table after knocking back both espresso shots.

�I�m just in for the holiday. I work at a law firm in L.A.�

I looked at him distastefully. �L.A.? Law? You never struck me as the type.�

He shrugged. �Jessie wanted to live there. She says the schools are good and it�s a healthy place to grow up.�

�Jessie?�

�Sanford. We got married last year.�

�What?�

He laughed and I stared at him in disbelief. �What do you do?� he asked. �No marriage, no law?�

�Actually, I decided to go into education. I�m a T.A. at Barnard. And no marriage. You always knew that wouldn�t happen.�

He shrugged. �I thought maybe you�d meet someone like you.�

I shook my head, then smiled sadly. �You were the closest I ever came.�

He looked up then, and there was so much written across his eyes that I couldn�t help but stare back. �I wish I�d known that at the time.� I looked away. He looked down. �You look good. I�m glad I saw you. I�m glad you�re happy...�

�Where are you staying?� I asked him.

�With Jessie�s family,� we said simultaneously. I laughed. �Of course.�

�Of course,� he agreed. �So where are you living now?�

�Lower East Side.�

�Your grandmother�s?� he asked incredulously.

�Yep,� I smiled.

His eyes lit up and I couldn�t suppress a giggle. �Can I see it?� he asked, boyish enthusiasm threatening to burst through his calm exterior.

�What will Jessie say about your inviting your self up to your ex-girlfriend�s apartment?� I asked, almost flirtatiously.

�Ah fuck Jessie! This is for Old Time�s sake!� he grinned.

We redressed and soon were riding on the subway and deja-vu was flying through the air like a ghost with a purpose. As the train stopped, I was thrown up against him and for a minute we stood, pressed close together in a moment so perfectly unplanned that it seemed cliched.

I led him up the stairs and across the street. When we walked into the apartment he clapped. �You didn�t change a fucking thing did you?� he asked.

�The bed,� I said, then bit my tongue.

He smiled and his face loomed and I decided to kiss him, for Old Time�s sake, and he decided to kiss me back. I decided to jump onto his hips and he stumbled into the bedroom, and suddenly Old Time became Now and nothing but the new bed seemed strange in the moment.

An hour later we sat there and I smoked and he kept stealing my cigarette for drags, but refused to take his own. �So,� I said, and the word hung on the cigarette smoke in the air. He sat quietly. I turned. �Well?�

�Well what?� he asked, taking the cigarette from my fingers, his eyes on me.

�Is that it?� I asked.

�Yeah,� he said, but he didn�t sound sure of himself. �I go back to L.A. next week. I�ve got Jessie, we�re trying to have a baby.�

�Ah,� I said. �How the fuck did you end up with Jessie?�

�And not you?�

�Or anyone else.�

�But specifically you.�

�Whatever,� I said, stabbing the cigarette out in the ashtray by the bed.

�Sometimes I ask myself the same thing,� he said, laying back. �I mean, look at me. I�m in your grandmother�s bed, naked. I�m married, and I�m fucking you, and I love you.�

I looked at him then, laying upside down. �I don�t really love you,� I told him. �I think that�s why.�

He sat up. �We would�ve been so great, Katie.�

�You�re too much of a pushover, Nick.� He pulled on his pants, then shirt, and I went to help him button it. �We�re not a Hemingway novel, you know. Even if we were, it never would�ve worked.�

�I guess,� he said.

�Yea,� I told him.

�Well,� he said, �I take it you won�t see me downstairs?�

�No.�

�Well, I�m going to leave my number in L.A. on the table. In case you�re ever there, you could stop by.�

�I�ll never go to L.A. You know that,� I told him.

�I�ll be back here,� he said. �I�m just going to leave it. For whatever.�

�Old Time�s sake?� I asked mockingly.

�Sure,� he said. �Bye Katie.�

�Bye,� I said, pressing the door closed tightly behind him, as though it would keep the memories out as well as his physical presence.