The "Princess"

She spent a good deal of time talking about her ex-husband, and how he abused her. He was a multimillionaire, but wouldn't even buy her a Latte at Starbucks. She'd gone through seven lawyers over the course of a seven year battle that finally ended in divorce last year. She had half custody of her seven year old, but these days, he lived almost entirely with the ex, and that was because he was rich, and she had no money, so the judge was more inclined to side with someone who had money. She said she'd been foolish. She cared no more for big houses and Mercedes. In the end, they didn't mean anything. She liked me because I wrote fiction, songs, and was, in general, creative. She wanted to write the story of her grandparents romance in a bomb shelter in World War II Italy. I asked her if she'd ever written. She said, she hadn't. She hoped that maybe we could join forces, and I could help her, but we'd have to sign an agreement about rights.

She sat to my left side. In between her litany, she'd pull out her cell phone, and looked at the interface. She'd touch it with an index finger, then stroke it with quick downward motions. I assumed she was checking messages. Sometimes she'd smile while doing so. Occasionally, she'd look up to check on her son and my nephew who were playing on some water and plastic ball contraption in the children's museum. I told her about the recent events in my life. She responded with similar events from her sordid past. She never took off her large oval plastic framed glasses. She was an attractive woman with long brown wavy hair. She said she looked like Sophia Loren, and to some extent she did. When I asked her if she'd checked out my blog or my song writing web site, she said she hadn't, and gave some convoluted response that I couldn't follow the logic of.

I felt a large lump growing in my throat. It felt as big and as empty as a Prairie. It spread down my neck, into my chest, and finally filled my stomach. My entire body had become a stark, lonely space, and I was the only creature inhabiting it. My Sophia Loren look-alike companion kept right on talking. She never noticed my transformation. While she talked, a thought came into my mind:  I was the loneliest man on the face of the earth. I looked at my friend talking away, and realized that I'd be better off alone.