Coley’s fingers flew over the laptop, barely keeping up with his racing inspiration. Deep in thought, the slamming door made him jump.
Dammit. The super promised to fix that door.
Breathe. Focus.
He could usually tune out the predictable noises of his brownstone neighbors, but the blare of Glen Miller trumpets from the apartment above had him pounding his ceiling with a broomstick. Frustrated, he felt inspiration slip away like smoke through his fingers.
Dammit. 2b. Again.
He had caught a glimpse of a pretty heart shaped face as she rushed past him on the stairs but he hadn’t spoken to her. Now irritated, he clicked SAVE and climbed to the second floor.
“Listen, I hate to complain but…”
His anger guttered when the stunning red head opened the door. Her green eyes sparkled and her pale face was flushed. Beyond her, an older version waited primly on the sofa. He stood wide-eyed and mute as she explained, “She’s my Gramma. Sometimes she thinks its 1945, and her brother, Tommy, will be returning from the war today.”
His irritation evaporated. “I’m so sorry.”
She shrugs, “She’s happy for a few hours but her heart breaks when Tommy never arrives.”
The old woman calls out,“Tommy?”
Turning her luminous green eyes to him, the young woman raises an eyebrow conspiratorially. She smiles and his heart swells as he crosses the room to gently takes the older woman’s hand. “Hello, beautiful. Want to dance?”
