I hear the delicate tone the sound of my name ringing in the way it always does from her lips. As I smile despite myself and that in the years since I've last seen her. She has hardly aged a bit as I continue to look at her.
Loosing myself there aware that her husband someone I once knew very well died five years ago. As I think on our other last conversation - one not a million miles from this current one either with it being something ten years past - that she had arrived at my own door in New York, staying for three days and three nights and disappearing as quickly as she had come to begin with.
As I am now jolted hard back to reality:
"You came for the job right? I mean it's the only thing which could bring you back to Cicely Fleischman?"
TO BE CONTINUED