the (fabricated) story of my ring: part 5.

{Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here, Part 4 here.}

"George? I'm Nadine, hi!"

Nadine stood at the door of 2B's apartment, greeted by George, who had not yet gotten dressed and blushed in embarrassment.

"I know it's early, but I have to be on my way to work and I just thought you should have this."

George looked down to see a beautiful typewriter in Nadine's arms.

"Well, you said in your letter that you had broken yours and, well, I'm not using this one. I really wish you'd take it. It deserves to be loved, you know? Used by someone who will truly appreciate it."

George blinked. He thought he must dreaming. To have such a lovely person standing in his doorway, a woman he had never met, offering him a beautiful and perfectly operating typewriter, it didn't seem real.

"Thank you," he said, feebly. "I don't feel like I should take it, though."

"Please, please take it. I'm not using it. It's sitting in my closet. A friend of mine gave it to me and she'd be so happy to know that someone was putting it to good use. It would be so much happier down here with you."

She held it out to him. He thought of the way she said the typewriter would be happy and he smiled. He thought about how perfectly perfect it was that she described the typewriter as though it was a person. It was something he would do. He looked at Nadine, wanting to memorize her face.

"How about if I just borrow it? See how things work out between the two of us."

"I think that would be just lovely," she replied. "You know, I'm on my way to the theater right now, but it would be nice to do something together, don't you think? I feel as though I've known you for much longer than this conversation right here and right now. It's like we've been lifelong friends, or something, don't you think?"

George did. He thought that with his whole heart. He couldn't believe this young woman was saying all of these things, as if she were pulling the words right out of his deepest thoughts.

"Meet me at the coffee shop on the corner. They have the best pastries and I like to have something sweet after a long day of work. Can you make it? At 6 o'clock? Well, actually, let's meet here so I can feed my cat and then we'll walk together. Does that work?"

"Sure," said George. Pull it together, he thought to himself. "I'd be delighted to get a pastry with you."

"Well, good!" Nadine shouted, as she ran down the stairs. At the very bottom of the lobby she added, "Enjoy the typewriter!"

George could not wipe the smile from his face. He walked around his apartment in a daze. Every now and then he would just stand in front of the typewriter, sure that it was giving off some kind of aura — a breath of fresh air in an otherwise bland apartment. He thought of Nadine. He thought of her radiance. Her boldness. Her ease. It was all almost too much. She didn't seem real or tangible. He thought he might burst.

Part 6 here.