“Where are we?” Roman doesn’t answer. Three padded leather stools have been arranged at a small bar, the room is narrow, but not claustrophobic...lly so. A couch lines one wall. In front of the couch is a large oval rug and this time, an atrium frames the view of the airport runway. Rose wonders about her acquaintance. Clearly he is no struggling backpacker. “A seat?” His chivalry is courageous. “Thank you.” She sits. Unselfconsciously, her escort sinks to his knees before her. The bar. He looked around the room, taking inventory of his earthly belongings. Because he had always lived alone, he had never needed much. Now in his middle age, he felt a vagrant wistfulness about the things he’d never owned, the places he’d never gone, the people he’d never known, and the things he’d never done.The dream had left him shaken, and he tried to leave it in his bed, choosing to get up quickly instead of lingering in the warmth. The one companion he’d really loved had been that dog; when. More

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