"Thank you, for everything!"

Jeanne sat at the table, watching the small box across from her. She stared at its menacing buttons, and rotating eyes, not sure what exactly she should say. It would almost be intimate, speaking her thoughts and recollections out loud, alone, except for the box. Nothing like paper, or even a video - but pure magnetic audio tape...

She took a deep breath and picked up the tape recorder.

"There was this guy i once knew. He was kind of quirky, in that smart kind of way. You know, the kind of guy you want to cringe from, because he said something embarrassing, but you'd never do it, because what he said - well, it was the truth.

"I met him online. He was a tour guide, to some off chance diner that i used to frequent. We decided to meet up because i just couldn't take being in my apartment any longer. That's another story that will come in later. I saw that he knew a little more about the history of this diner, and i emailed him, asking him to join me for dinner."

Pause, it was a strange word, but it meant the world. She wasn't ready to go on, not yet. His memory was too clear in her mind. Jeanne was a little afraid, afraid she'd feel those feelings again. The feelings that were so dear to her, yet forbidden to have. It was impossible now. Unpause.

"Let me tell you about the diner. It had the corny black and white checkered floors, red booth seats and chrome lined tables. Every day i'd see the master chef behind his counter, a tipped white short-order hat graced his balding head. He always smiled when i came in, because he knew at least someone would enjoy his food that day. By now i'd come to know the entire staff. Sara was my favorite waitress and i noticed, quite subconsciously, that i'd come in during her shift just for the great service.

"Benny was the man behind the counter and Pedro was the busboy," she laughed and pressed pause again, wondering if she should keep laughing on the tape. She decides to, unpause.

"Despite Pedro's name, he didn't speak a word of spanish, and he got more than a few looks for being a busboy. But he loved his job, the atmosphere, the people, even his boss, Benny. I used to talk to Pedro from time to time, it was another reason i loved the diner. Now i'm getting off topic.

"Adam was his name. It was a pure name, as pure as his dark roots and blond hair. It was sandy brown, and messy, just the way it should be. He wore rectanglish glasses," she laughed, "is that even a word? Sure, why not. It made him very attractive, and the focal point was his eyes. I'm not sure why he was a tour guide. His intelligence made me wonder about his choice of career, but i wouldn't ever ask him about it, for fear of hurting his feelings. I'm also not sure why that might offend him, but it just seemed like the wrong thing to ask.

"Off topic again. So he came in and asked for me immediately. Sara quirked her brow and with a huge grin asked if he was my date for the night. He took the jest in stride, pushed his glasses up with a graceful, but shy motion and replied, 'Just here to meet her, how the rest of the night goes....' "

Pause. Jeanne closed her eyes. Tonight it was clearer than most nights. One of the reasons she decided to record it. But she wasn't ready for the feelings to come back with the memory. It was always taught to suppress the feelings, so as not to taint the image, but these feelings were too strong to contain.

Unpause.

" 'Miss Jeannne?' were the first words to come from his mouth. I nodded, and smiled. 'Mr. Adam, i presume.' and the night started.

"We spoke about the land ownership, the building site, the change in management and even the fire that brought everything down. Over a month, we made Thursday nights our hang out night; the diner, our sanctuary. Then something changed.

"Walking out one night, we were both silent. Like we knew what each other were thinking, but we didn't want to say anything. I turned around and found it hard to look at him."

Pause. Jeanne put the recorder on the table and went to the fridge. The yellow light shone on one bottle of water, and a tin container of last night's chinese food. She grabbed the water and went back to the table.

It wasn't until she sat down that she realized it was dark outside. Moonlight spilled across the floor and was reaching for the table - reaching for the tape recorder. She knew it was impossible, but something in the room wanted to break the device, but this was her only chance.

With a twist, the water was open and a cool wave of liquid splashed down her throat. Made her mouth tingle with numbness, until the wave subsided and she was clear headed again.

Jeanne stopped the tape, rewound it a little to remember her place, Play.

"Walking out one night, we were both silent. Like we knew what each other were thinking, but we didn't want to say anything. I turned around and found it hard to look at him.

Record.

"For the first time, i couldn't look into his eyes. Instead, i reached up and put my arms on his shoulders. He was trembling, just as i had been. There was no way i could describe how these feelings came to be. We tried to kiss, but i went to his cheek instead."

Pause.

"GOD, this is embarrassing....." she yelled. "But it has to be done!"

Unpause.

"Just as i hesitated, i realized my mistake. In that one little instant, that one scant moment, i broke his heart because i didn't fulfill the perfect moment.

"I was immediately devastated. I tried again to kiss him, but his eyes turned cold, and i knew he would never warm again."

Pause.

This wasn't right. When feelings pushed objectivity out the way, the account changes and facts may be skewed. It was time to leave it for tonight. Her heart had taken enough, and it was time to rest.

She stopped the tape recorder and returned the water to the fridge. Tomorrow is another day.