Derwisch left in the morning, just as the sun came up. It was a peculiar farewell, soft and silent. If Rose has any doubts as to whether their relationship would continue, they end as the door clicks closed. She begins to cry big, salty crocodile tears for a dream that isn't a worth pursing. She cries because she supposes a man like Derwisch will have no trouble finding another woman, to replace her.
What follows is a day spent wandering aimlessly in an unfamiliar city. Eventually, Rose stops at a pub. She orders a gin and tonic and a bowl of cashews. Rose eats cashews delicately, one by one. She pulls Roman's white business card from her pink handbag. What would it mean to contact him? What could she tell him?
Sipping on her second gin, Rose is aware someone watches. There is a man in an old-fashioned booth by the window. His mouth is strong and full. On the table, an iPhone lies forgotten, adjacent to his beer. A dark tan hides inked artwork that snakes around his bicep. Close-cropped, short dark hair frames his face.
The man smiles, an open, genuine action that splinters the severity of his otherwise handsome face. Rose finds herself returning the gesture. She shrinks from grinning too broadly and turns away to sip her drink. The barman raises an eyebrow. Rose concentrates on pressing and trapping salt crystals at the bottom of her plastic cashew bowl. She licks them from her digit one by one, savouring the contrast. She traces the ink on Roman's stiff business card. Perhaps if she called him it would pass the time?
The stranger from the window brushes her wrist with his fingertips. Rose jumps, her thoughts stolen away.
“Hi.”
Rose forgets about the business card. His brown eyes sweep her face. Rose swallows, aware her throat is suddenly dry.
“Hey, Yourself”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“Sure.”
His accent is local. He's built like a tree house, all muscle and tanned flesh. Rose quivers.
“Gin and tonic please.”
He clips his vowels and swallows them with a comic-seductive, New Zealand twang.
“What's your name?”
A big upturned palm extends towards her.
“Levi.”
Rose slots his hand into hers briefly, takes a long sip of her slightly bitter beverage.
“That's kind of cool.”
“You're one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life.”
Rose coughs.
“Thank you.” She manages, cheeks aflame.
Rose puts her drink down.
“You're not so bad yourself.” Seconds pass. She claims her fresh glass.
“Do you drink here regularly?”
“I have a studio around the corner. You're welcome to come and have a see?”
