February 15th

She broke free, he told me. His lover would arrive the next day. I understood we would not see each other again. Not for awhile.

I went out the next night with my sister. We entered the salon and settled into the din of flirtatious laughter, drunken revelry, and the clink of glasses set down on marble table tops, illuminated by endless chandeliers reflected in tall, brass-framed mirrors all around us. We didn't notice the couple in the corner, until I turned and caught his eye. We exchanged awkward introductions and hasty goodnights. I meant them no harm, but I could see she knew who I was. I excused myself to leave at once. I kissed my sister and flew off to a clandestine rendezvous, to lose myself again in the heat of another.

I'll call him, when I get back next week. After she's gone.