“A small favour,” said Barry holding out a book, “will you drop this at Myra’s place on your way home.”
“Don’t be so formal, it’s OK. She stays just two blocks away from me.”
I had heard more about Myra than I had seen her. She looked smart and polished from a distance, but that was all that I knew of her.
Myra opened the door. She wore a white flowing dress and a smile. I held out the book and said, “Barry gave this, he said you would love it.”
“Hey, where are you going, come in,” said Myra holding the door open, “I see you in the neighbourhood off and-on. Barry can’t stop talking about you.”
“We are close friends since kindergarten,” said I, looking around in her neatly done up drawing room.
Myra sat by the window, her face back-lit, just as an artist would place his model. Her curly auburn hair transparent in the light, framed her sharp features. Lost in my thoughts I was already sketching her portrait on my mind’s canvas. She asked me something and I missed it completely.
“Sorry?” I asked.
“Coffee, will you have some coffee?” she said.
I mumbled an embarrassed, “No, thank you,” and got up to leave.