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wheels turning in her mind. The smile
left her face and her head turned back to her canvas. For a moment,
she resembled a bird whose head moves in odd jerking motions.
Michael just watched her as she thought about her next moves.
    She stood quickly, returned to her canvas,
and began to paint. Michael was pleased to be of some assistance,
although he doubted he had been much help. However, he also hated
himself for it. Melanie's head on his lap, with her knees curled up
on the couch, had been something he enjoyed. Now that she was gone,
he missed it.
    Luckily for him, Melanie painted for only
twenty minutes and then took the time to clean her equipment. When
she returned to him, it was just past five in the morning, and he
was pleased to have her head in his lap again. He stroked her hair
for a moment as she breathed deeply, apparently intent on staring
at her painting. He looked at it as well and enjoyed the
colors.
    She had swirled the upper corner with a
mixture of green and purple. The design was interesting and flowed
well, and Michael believed he liked it. That was often the case
with him and art. Part of him liked it and part of him did not. His
job called for straight lines and things such as door hardware—not
exactly the most glamorous notions in design.
    "How long have you been up?" he asked her
without taking his eyes of the artwork. The wet oils reflected well
in the light and kept his focus. It was a few seconds before he
realized that Melanie had not responded. He looked down and saw
that she was asleep.
    The image presented to him at that moment
enraptured him. Continuing to stroke her hair, he watched her sleep
with her head on his lap. He didn't consider moving; that might
disturb her. Besides, he didn't know how long she had been awake
and she probably needed her sleep. The fact that she felt
comfortable enough to curl up with him warmed his heart, and as he
stared at her, he came to realize one important truth.
    "Michael Angel," he whispered to himself as
he stroked her hair, "This woman is going to be trouble for
you."
     
     
     

Chapter 4
     
     
     
     
    "Don't you have to get to work?" Michael
asked Melanie as she emerged from her poor excuse of a
bathroom.
    "I'll get there," she replied as she dried
her hair. "And don't you have to get to work as well?" she asked in
return.
    "Yep, but I'm one of the bosses, so I get a
break."
    "Oh, you're one of them," she said as she
rolled her eyes. "Well, you might want to think of a good excuse
for being late. Us underlings like to know you're not just slacking
off," she said as she threw her towel at him.
    Michael dodged it easily.
    "I'll just tell them I was getting laid last
night, and the woman couldn’t get enough of me," he chuckled.
    "Oh great, a work of fiction," she replied
with an eye roll as she bounced up to him and gave him a peck on
the cheek.
    Michael allowed her the quick show of
affection by bending down to grant her easy access to his face. He
then took a sip of his coffee, and made certain he had all of his
belongings. It wasn't much, just his clothes, his wallet, his keys
and a phone.
    "Melanie, can I see you again?" he asked as
they exited her apartment.
    "Sure, you still have my number right?"
    "Yep, I put it in my phone," he replied.
    "Good boy," she said as she began to head
down the stairs. Much like the day before, she seemed to dance as
she walked. Michael found it an odd contrast to the serious nature
displayed when she painted. Like two sides of a very odd coin. One
side light-hearted and flaky, the other focused and intense. He
could understand it to some degree; she was an artist and
demonstrated two extremes—almost simultaneously.
    Before they separated for the day, they made
plans to see each other again. Conflicting schedules required it to
be a few days later, but Michael wouldn't leave her presence until
she consented to some future activity. In the end, she agreed that
he could call her on Friday at three PM, and she would