A few months later, he wrote again

A few months later, he wrote again. Again it was in a language she did not speak, and so she ran his words through the online translator:

Tamara, I want to re-examine you and remember like what it felts to extend my face in the small one of your back. I come in two months. Loan? Yours, Daniel

After reading this, she experienced the odd sensation of warmth every time she went to the bank to make a deposit. Endorsing a check was never quite the same.

One had blonde curly hair

One had blonde curly hair and a rounded, voluptuous body. Her laugh was loud and boisterous, but she ate with a relish to the point of shoveling food into her mouth. She was smart in the way of newspapers and people and not afraid to share her opinions. Being with her was always interesting but sometimes exhausting because she would always look you straight in the eye, which demanded responses. The other was willowy and dark, her hair so fine and straight that it never stayed up in a ponytail. She was very quiet, but when she spoke, she expressed such strange, rare thoughts that her flat affect seemed intriguing instead of zombielike. She was not nearly as fun and lively, but she was so mysterious that it was almost irresistible. Who should he choose? He sat alone at the bar and pondered the question.

I had a dream last night

I had a dream last night that there was a storm on Pluto. The raindrops hit the soil and turned into diamonds that battered my face like little knives. I woke up with the imprint of my ring pressed in my skin. He was sleeping beside me, the outline of his body like a mountain range against the pale light of dawn. When I went back to sleep, my dreams turned to the ocean. The waves had completely stopped and in them the fishes died, coming to the water's surface like diamonds scattered on the wind. I reached down to touch them, but my fingers were gone.

There was a postcard waiting for her

There was a postcard waiting for her already when she got back. He wrote it in his native language, which she did not know a word of. She ran it through an online translator and this is what it came up with:

Dear Tamara, j' wanted to remain longer but j' had a plane to catch. Perhaps I will be in spring. My back will be never identical. It wounds all through my spine. Yours, Daniel

The night was not as poetic as she had remembered, but she was grateful for the acknowledgment at any rate.