2 A.M. at The Cat's Pajamas

11:10 P.M

Ben orders two whiskeys and two Churchills and pats his legs dry with bar napkins. Sarina makes flimsy promises to herself in the ladies’ room mirror. She will have one drink, total. Two. She will have two drinks and the third will be water. She will ask about Annie. She will not mention Annie. She will not cross her legs for effect. She will absolutely cross her legs every five seconds. She will not, under any circumstances, call anything “transcendent.” She will keep her ever-loving shit together. Even if he touches her cheek. Which he has already done three times. Why does he touch her cheek so much? Is he someone who touches people’s cheeks or is it her cheek specifically? She touches her cheek. Not bad.

Here stands Sarina in the mirror of a cigar bar, reminding herself that there is no color skirt she can wear that would make Ben single. There is no way she can fix her hair, no perfume on earth, no story amusing enough. Even if she wishes in this mirror for an hour, this night will end with a good-bye and a bowl of ice cream with cherries. She is obvious and see-through and a joke. She will never leave this bathroom. He’ll be confused initially but then will return to his life. She will live here, teach via telephone, knit in the evenings. They will say, Remember that night Georgie had a dinner party and Sarina decided to live in the bathroom? She will die here, next to this decorative toilet paper decanter and that vintage cat poster. People will say, they will say, people will say.

A jiggling sound. A stranger tries the door.

Sarina checks her watch.