Love Minus Eighty
“She was out there somewhere.
Rising from the edge of his bed, Rob retrieved his lute from the closet, went out back, brushed dried leaves and silt from an old porto-seat, and sat down. He let his fingers glide over the polished wood of the lute, then began playing “Polymnia,” an ancient piece he rarely played unless he was providing dinner music at a swanky restaurant.
She wasn’t going to call. If she were, she would have done so by now.
Two weeks was more than enough time.
He paused midsong. Maybe he should leave one more message? No. What could he say that he hadn’t said the first three times? Leaving a fourth message would only make him seem more pathetic. He carried on with the song.
His chest ached at the thought of Winter alive, laughing, living, with him no part of her life. Where was she, right now? On Red’s estate? In an ultralight copter? Rob looked up at the sliver of sky visible below the roof of Percy Estate, saw a copter flitting its way to somewhere. Winter could be in it.
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