"Ugh, but the smoking ban is such a bore, I mean, please."

"OK, I'm sorry, I thought..."

"Can we just talk about something else?"

She inhaled deep and long and exhaled a bored, tired cloud that drifted beneath the lazy glow of a few dim lights. She had heard this all before, she had entertained this question one hundred and one times, she just wanted to talk about something else. Why did she even invite this little girl out to dinner anyway, what the hell was she doing?

"Yeah, I... I'm sorry, I didn't know it was a touchy subject. Never--nevermind."

Uncomfortable barely began to describe the feeling that encapsulated her entire body, from her sweaty palms to her freshly shaved legs; this wasn't a normal feeling. She wasn't even with a man. She was at dinner with her co-worker, but dressed up for the first time in years. Why was she so nervous? She should probably just excuse herself now, this was silly and inappropriate, she should never have accepted the invitation in the first place.

"Yes, please, nevermind," came an angry retort.

She wanted this to be over with.

This restaraunt was too fancy. What was blue cheese foam with port reduction, really? Something edible?

Later, at home, Cynthia would take a bath. Then she would have a drink, a glass of wine her father had mailed her from France. It had been sitting in it's original box on her countertop for months. She would taste it tonight, but she never really understood why people liked wine. She would ease into bed, she would call Thomas.

Ann's apartment was sparsely decorated, just family photos, gifts she couldn't bring herself to throw out, and a cross on the wall. She liked most things. She would sleep on the same cotton sheets that she has slept on for the past 5 years. She didn't own any CDs, so she wouldn't listen to music before bed, nor would she read a book. She would sleep in a quiet house.

Until Thomas arrived.