Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. Entranced, he stared at the name. Not alone with her, that’s sure. He stamped his last letter as Annabel entered. —Though if my name should become as famous as theirs, it wouldn't much matter. The day is already half over. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. She slipped on a white clingy imitation silk tee-shirt, a sexy number that Shari had bought on super-sale at the Limited.
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