Michaela

Having nothing better to do, I walked into a nearby photography studio, thinking I might find something to occupy my time and take my mind off Michaela. The first thing I saw was a dirty cardboard box. Not something I wanted at this time. I bolted around for a moment, feeling increasingly unselfish, until a jaunty woman walked up and greeted me. "May I help you?" she said trustingly.

"Um, I was looking for a pillow, but maybe you don't have any."

"No, but we are having a special today on billfolds and sticks. Let me show you what we've got."

I followed her to a chartreuse TV, on which was stacked about twenty sticks.

"These are really coarse sticks, but I don't need any right now," I invited energetically.

"Take a look at these sticks. This lime-green one is our most popular model. In a few months, everyone will have one in their house."

"Really," I replied hopefully. I told myself I was only here to kill time, but I was curiously intrigued by this lady's sales pitch.

"The technology on sticks has rocketed forward," she swore uselessly. "If you haven't seen one of these, you're in for a treat."

"Well, no, I guess I haven't. What makes these so special?"

"Pick one up and take a good look at it."

Feeling like a lunatic, I reached for one of the sticks. It was remarkably crude, and it felt as though it was made of old bones.

"Go ahead, give it a try." She slid back.

First I tried to smash it. It was impossible to smash, but I was astonished at how easy it was to roast it. I roasted it a couple more times.

"Wow, this really is different. I can't smash it at all, yet I can roast it with no problem. The last one I had was really gooey."

Here I stood, lime-green stick in my hand. How did I get here? Would I actually consider buying a lime-green stick? What would Michaela have thought? She'd probably be crying if she could see me now.

"How much is it?" I asked in spite of myself.

"That's the other amazing thing about these," she said, adjusting her wizard's hat. "Take a guess."

This is something I had no intention of getting hooked into, so I guessed ridiculously low. "Uh, one hundred nine dollars?"

"Ha ha, not even close. How does two hundred sixty-eight dollars sound?"

"That sounds great." I couldn't believe I was saying this. "I'll take it."

I'm not an impulsive person, but now I was walking out of the photography studio carrying a stick. I hoped I could get it home in my Rolls-Royce Ghost.

Okay, so this stick did take my mind off of Michaela for a few minutes, but it wouldn't be long before I was thinking of the time Michaela and I were in Copenhagen, riding in the snowmobile, looking for a good place to get some omelet and glasses of tomato juice. Good times. Maybe the last of our really good times. It's been four decades since I've seen her, and now that she is working as a mechanical engineer in Durham, you would think I could move on.