“At the risk of sounding naive,” I began, “I was wondering if it’s all right if I break the tension in the room. I know I have to spend the night here and I am grateful but I am also having trouble with the silence.”
They had been sitting for ten minutes; a world record. I wasn’t sure what direction to go but I could not sit at this fireplace for hours while the world turned black. I needed entertainment, solace. His attention was held by the fire. I was surprised by his neglect of me, truly. It was as if I wasn’t even in the room.
“Of course,” he said, barely turning his attention back to me.
I was sitting up, hands folded in between my legs, a masculine stance. Swallowing hard, I began, “Maybe we can get to know each other.”
I was not used to such apathy. We are mourning, I tried to remind myself, but I also couldn’t stand the chill. Maybe this was just valor, but it felt stifling.
“Sure,” he began to snap out of it. “I didn’t want to pressure you.”
He shifted his direction away from the mantle, mirrored my position and smiled. Sometimes people think you have a plan when all you really have is a prayer.
“Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Ava? How you got here?” He waved his hands, “Here, as in today, Philadelphia, this room.”
And sometimes when the moment comes, the moment of action, the invitation, the way it feels when you wake up on a set or something, like this has been laid out before you
“Well, gee, how far back should I go?”
you leap.
“I’d love to hear the whole thing and we have so much time.”
He sat back on the couch and stretched his legs out. I stayed in my stance, murmuring little thank yous in my head. You leap and the net appears, or as I like to say, you can will anything into existence if you fixate on it daily and even in duress if all you pictured was one giant net, the tightrope will manifest first.

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