ANAHITA , F.
BRIEFLY, LIKE A WILDFIRE. you hear him before you see him. ( the heart races, the throat tightens, the breath stops you know the signs of intruders. ) it takes a pause, thoughtfulness of some creation, and he finally calls to your attention. immediately, you turn on your heels and face him. ❛ quentin, hello. ❜ more monotone than you hoped; the sunglasses throw you off. ❛ you came fast. tony knows i need you more. ❜ a laugh chimes cautiously from you mid-sentence, like it’s not sure where it belongs.
enough of the trivialities. you stare at him completely. ❛ are you going to take the sunglasses off, or do i have to do it myself? ❜
FOR A MOMENT, QUENTIN IS QUIET AND STILL, AS IF STUNNED. but with sudden motion — like a man awakened from a dream, his hands jerk upwards, fumbling to slip the sunglasses off of his face. the light dances in his shimmering eyes.
he laughs, too — embarrassed by his blunder. "i guess i forgot i was wearing these . . . — funny how the mind works," he grins, his gaze darting downward, toward the ground. he toys with his sunglasses in his free hand, flicking one leg out and in, out and in. he stops.
"anyway," he clears his throat, business-like and withheld. with ease, he lifts the briefcase. it swings, gently. "i have some new gadgets for you," a mischievous edge reenters his voice, "made by yours truly — of course."











