A Kiss is Just a Kiss
Hornsey Library, London England
“I don’t see my book here, said Lionel.”
Jean, occupied in her own search for any reference material she could find on selling her own advertising business, failed to respond.
“I say, the selection of books in this section is quite limited but I see no reason not to have “My Life in Kenya” here.”
“Shut up Lionel. Since I last saw you 38 years ago, I married, had one child, suffered the death of my husband, and built a successful secretarial agency. Then you walked into my life again! You walked into my office looking for a typist for your damn book. I recognized you and realized my life was about to spin out of control. All I wanted for the rest of my life was to live by myself, be in good health, and hope I can sell this damn business.”
“When you left for Korea I sent you a letter baring my soul and telling you how much I love you. I never received a response so I assumed you had lost interest. And then you show up looking for a typist. Christ! Both my greatest fear and greatest hope happened when you walked in that door.
“Lionel you told me yourself that your and your wife divorced on the grounds of “mutual boredom” and to tell you the truth your boring me to death right now.”
“I say, said Lionel, do you think they would order some copies if I agreed to a signing?