My work day comes to an end, finally. At 5 o'clock, just after finishing the tax return for a client, a hardware store, I closed the software and stood up to leave.
"I'll see you in the morning Stephanie."
"Good night Jeff," I replied.
I boarded the crowded subway train that will bring me back to my apartment.
At 44 years old, having lost my husband to another man, I find myself suddenly single again. It's a good thing I keep my body fit. Staying fit improves my chances of getting another man, or at least it doesn't hurt them.
I find myself living vicariously through the characters in sappy romance stories. The girl will get her man. The couple will live happily ever after in their dream house.
My colleague Jeff Halle is a handsome dude. Tall with gray hair, full lips and an oval face, he looks like an older version of my ex husband. The only difference is that Jon's hair is still brown.
I am 5 6. Genes have given me a gentle curve at my waist, a big curve at my hips and firm C cup breast. My daily run of 3 or more miles gives me firm thighs.
Several years ago Jon was the last person to have seen my body. He had lost interest in having sex though at the time I hadn't suspected that he would switch sides.
By 8 30 the sun had disappeared below the horizon. I had eaten a ready made stuffed pepper, and had spent a few minutes reading articles in Vogue magazine. Leaving the magazine on my coffee table, I went to the window overlooking the activity on the street below.
As so often happens my eyes wander upward. This particular night in July brought a pleasant surprise. A man was standing naked at his window. Does he imagine himself on stage? I stood at my window for nearly a minute unable to take my eyes off the show that he was giving to the public.
Who is that man? He's probably not in a relationship. He is cute.
He moved away from the window. The room went dark.
The next couple of nights I watched him again. By night three I wanted to do more than just watch a show.
