In the aether of the world, we'll call it the World Aether Cafe, I and D' sat. My mind was occupied with thoughts of her while hers were occupied with thoughts unknown to me. Yet, she seems to know what it is I'm thinking-perhaps I am just too easy to read. As we speak about her condition, she suddenly changes subject:
"You know our spending time together is not a creative thing," She says. "I've mislead others in the past and I just want to be clear. You know that, right?"
I conceal myself behind a wall of unfeeling and casually respond, "Oh yes, of course."
The cafe dissolves and reforms into an intersection slowly filling with cars. I have my bike, D' is about to walk the opposite direction. As I turn to say goodbye, I notice she has suddenly aged: her hair is a newst of grey-white tangles; her clothes become tattered and torn, dingy and drab; A cane in her left hand supports her tired bones. Cars begin to surround us and come between us. The intersection, by this time, is an unmoving mass of metal and rubber, letting out honks here and there. I turn away and bike off down the only uncomfortably empty road.
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