"If you want, I'll fuck your brains out." he looked toward her
"You're just lucky I'm a whore." she said.
They sat in an old Parisian styled apartment located in the Lower East Side. Louis lived there alone. The apartment was small and from every wall hung bicycle and old Hollywood decor.
"You are not." he said reaching for her hand.
Pulling the lit cigarette from her lips, she looked back at him with those low deep eyes. Inhaling deeply, she looked back at him again. "How would you know that?"
Before he could reply, there was sharp buzz coming from the doorway. Louis stared at the speaker and stood from his seat. The buzzing continued over and over again in a fast hurried pace. Louis, his head now leaning against the door and his hand hovering above the speaker, breathed a deep sigh, and hit the button: Speak.

"Hello?" he answered.
"Louis! Finally! Why does it take you so long to answer?? Never mind that, buzz me in. I've got a surprise for you." It was Margret.
"Ok, Ok." He said as he held down the buzzer for what seemed like an eternity.
"Who was that?" she said, still sitting in the old red leather chair in the living room.
"My fiance, Margret." he replied in a tired voice.
"You're married?"
"No. Well, not yet." He brushed his hands through his hair and stood with his shoulders drooping. Louis never had good posture.
"When did that happen?" She spoke in her usual monotone voice, shrugging off any remote desires and putting her cigarette out in a bicycle shaped ashtray.
"A couple months ago."
"Are you happy?" This time she stood from her chair, still wearing the old brown pea coat she had bought in Spain.
"Yeah, well, yes, I'm happy. I think I'm happy." Louis stumbled over his words. "Are you leaving?" he said.
"I have to get back to my hotel room. I have a date tonight." She picked up her bright red purse, draped it over her left shoulder, and opened the door.
"Madeline, wait." he said reaching his arm to touch her shoulder. "How long are you going to stay?"
"A week, a month, a year. I haven't really thought about it." She replied as she pulled another cigarette from her purse. "I'll see you around." she said as she walked out the door.

Louis stood, steeped in his thoughts, with his head against the closed door. He had loved Madeline for as long as he remembered. He forgave her for everything, even when she left him standing by the bay alone, while she left on a flight for Europe with Dominick, a tall Italian visiting New York from Venice. He would have done everything for her, but she had left, and five years later she showed up on his front step.

A sharp loud knocking on the door broke Louis from his train of thought. It sounded like someone had swung a hammer directly into his head.

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