Site hosted by Build your free website today!
at least that was what she'd believed
until she met a familiar-looking man on a subway platform

This was really impossible. This guy looked exactly like Wolf, down to his grin and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, but he was clearly someone else, someone from the Tenth -- no -- from New York. Another train was coming into the station. He looked at it, longingly, she thought. "Go," she said. "I'm sorry I bothered you."

He was kind enough to look conflicted. "Well, if you're sure you're okay."

"Oh, yes. Sure. Fine." She fished around in her pocket and came up with a crumpled Kleenex, blew her nose and stood up. Her knees were oddly weak and she wobbled.

He steadied her. "You're not okay."

"I am. I have to get to work."

He looked into her eyes searchingly and it made her want to faint, being so close to him. He smelled faintly of cologne. "Listen, let me put you in a cab." He still held her arm. She started to protest, but he raised a hand to shush her. "Hey, my mother would smack me if I left a damsel in distress fainting on a subway platform. I don't have to rush back to my office. Let me take you up to the street and make sure you find a cab."


"And don't go to work. You're too upset." The train was leaving but he wasn't paying any attention to it. He hooked an arm around her shoulders and steered them back towards the turnstile. "Let me be a hero today, okay?"

She nodded, her mouth too dry for speech.

When Virginia returns to New York through the mirror, she finds that her trip really never happened, until she meets a familiar-looking stockbroker named Mike Wolf.

by Shay Sheridan

replace on shelf | read story