The lovers meet in secluded places. Tonight it's the little cafe on Rue de La ____. They hide their fears from each other, just as they hide their faces from passers-by. They are very discreet. The warm wind reminds them of the passage of time and they are like one person. Leave a tip. Looking around, they blend into the crowd, only to meet again on the street. A nod, a smile and then he calls a taxi. He holds the door for her, then closes it. He overpays, turns abruptly and walks away into the twilight. She is a diva, with the voice of an angel. She is known throughout the world, as is her husband, the conductor. However, she will not be with her husband tonight. Her lover is attractive, in a strange way. But her attraction to him isn't based on appearances. The taxi leaves and turns right at the first bend. They pass two intersections, then turn right again. In the middle of the block is a small hotel, once elegant, now quaint. Today it is frequented by traders and visitors to the city. The taxi stops at the curb and the driver gets out and opens the door. He feels her awe at his fame and the discomfort it brings him. He won't take your tip. She watches him as he gets into the taxi and leaves into the evening. She throws a silk shawl over her head, turns and enters the hotel. He will have arrived before her and will have tidied up the room. Everyone is known within the hotel. Even though it is obvious that they are not married, no one who sees them would think it is that important. They are the epitome of romance.Room 212, still the same room. If he is not available, they have decided not to meet that night, despite their passions. It's part of the... center of the paper... flowing in its channel. He imagines her walking out and floating through the foyer and out the front door, into oblivion. Why did he do this? The question torments him; can't answer. Wiping his eyes with the damp handkerchief, he straightens and enters the hall in his wake. She is gone; he refrains from running after her, fearing what she would do if they met. Swallowing his feelings, he walks through the door, ignoring the magic and mystery they have woven in and around the hotel. He stops on the sidewalk and looks first right, then left. In the early morning light you can't see anyone else. He can hear the traffic, but the noise is muffled by the thick fog. Turning up his collar, he walks away into the wind, the rain mixing with his tears, the sound of the wind absorbing his sobs. it's over. It's just one more time.