frost over

Yes. It feels pretty much the same. It's just a number, right? Moved into a new apartment, trying to get all settled in. But as usual, my mind consistently has trouble doing so.

Three Little Words

     "Keep the change."
     He didn't need a watch to tell him it was late; it was written all over the cab driver's face as he handed him a fifty and stepped out onto the street in front of his hotel.  He was just another grey suit, locked away in a conference room all day, every day for the past week.  Crunching numbers and batting around recycled ideas had occupied him for so long that he was amazed that he could still find the energy and the courtesy to nod and thank the doorman for granting him passage from the swirling, chaotic city into one of several, well-lighted, chic eyes of the storm.
     Though it was warm and inviting, the lobby too was weary from the day.  Paintings of Manet adorned the light cream walls while three tasteful chandeliers illuminated the well-worn path to antique golden elevators.  To the right and left of the path were large, dark red chairs and couches complemented by cherry armrests and tables.  It took every effort for him to forgo the velvety comforts for something a little harder and to the left.
     Upon entering the room, he paused to adjust to the dim light and to take in the soft jazz playing.  He crossed the room and realized he'd waited all day to say these three words:
     "Martini, straight up."
     The bartender nodded slightly, polishing a snifter with such conviction only seen when one is prepared for a long night ahead.
     He removed his grey jacket gingerly as if he were peeling off his second skin.  He placed it on the stool next to him and loosened his cream silk tie to reveal a light blue dress shirt in fairly good condition, considering the hour.  As he turned away from the bar, he spotted a tall, slender man, maybe ten years his senior, standing next to a sleek black grand piano, sifting through his tip jar to quantify his luck for the evening.
     "Oh, what the hell," he muttered to himself as he crossed the room to the piano man.  "Would you happen to know any Bill Evans?" he asked, as he dropped a twenty in his jar.  The kindly gentleman tipped his bowler hat, sat down, and started "Very Early."
     As the suit made his way back to his trustworthy libation, he noticed the gentle aroma of the hotel soap mixed with ginger and lilies.  A single diamond solitaire twinkled at him flirtatiously just above the notch of her collarbone in competition with the soft, silken, dark purple slip dress to match her soft, silken, onyx hair, accented with white lilies.  He swore he'd seen her somewhere before as she made a beeline for the bar.  As she leaned over to make her order, he suggested that she take the seat nearest him.  Her eyes flashed briefly, as if she had met him before but forgotten his name.  She gave a single quick nod after a moment of reluctance and smirked slightly with amusement.
     "Dirty martini, please," she requested, in the same tone with which he'd heard his boss fire colleagues.  She flicked her eyes over his shirt and forgotten jacket and back to his face, briefly.  "Those cucumber eyes cause you trouble or fortune?" she asked casually, head cocked.
     "That depends.  Are you fortune or trouble?"
     A smirk crept across her face.  "Neutral grounds.  But I could be swayed either way, given the right circumstance."
     He brushed the wavy, sepia hair from his forehead and eyed her cautiously.  "I'm sure that happens a lot," he replied as he sipped his drink.  "Another, please, sir," he asked the bartender as "My Foolish Heart" slowly faded in.
     "Rough day, huh?  Let me guess...some big conference you're burnt out from?"
     "Yeah, something like that.  All business lately.  What about you?  I'm guessing little trip with the girls but now you need some alone time."
     She picked up her glass with a ringless left hand.  "Spot on...except no girls.  Despite all the tourist types, this is one of my favorite places to unwind in this city.  That and the guy at the keys is a good friend of mine."
     The older gentleman looked up and grinned.  "It's your last night in town.  I wanted to see you off right with a favourite."
     She laughed lightly, "Thanks, pal,&q uot; as he began to play "Airport Sadnes s".  Turning her attention back to her drink and company, she found him standing with an arm outstretched.
     "How about a last dance since apparently I'm never going to see you again?"
     "Well, why not?"  She took her last sip and his hand, and they found themselves floating on a tropical wood floor under soft white lights.
     She inhaled and exhaled deeply.  "I am so very ready to leave this place.  I just want to go somewhere where all I have to worry about is finding my next dirty martini on the waterfront in a string bikini.  Even if just for a few days.  I know that must sound silly to you..."
     He shook his head.  "No, not at all.  Actually, that is what I had foolishly hoped to find here.  A new, beautifully mysterious city, and all I have to show for it is dark circles under my eyes and a drinking habit."
     He closed his eyes and sighed with all his strength.  Half of him believed it was funny, the other half sad.  But holding this stranger to the jazz of a different era in the almost darkness was the closest to perfection he had ever been.  That was something he could accept.
     The tinkling of glasses and of closing chords brought him out of his daze, and he found himself staring into eyes that somehow seemed familiar and understanding.
     "Thanks for the dance," she whispered and kissed his right cheek.  He smelled faintly of laundry and citrus, but she was ready to leave.  And in an instant, she was gone, the door slightly ajar for the trail of optimism she'd left behind.
     He made his way back to the bar to find that she had picked up his tab.  As he shrugged on his jacket to make the trek to the elevator, he reached into his left pocket for his room key.  Inside he found her name, a number, and a brief message:  "Keep the change."