+TYPED OUT-

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The British and Germans shared one common passion; they swore their eternal love for beer. And it was without a doubt the exhibitors ended up on the rooftop of one of Berlins' popular hangouts to celebrate the first successful day of the fair. All one could hear was the cacophony of voices and the glutting sounds of lager sliding down the many throats of the exhibitors.

Monday stayed with Ben while Dagmar continued to extend her network.

"No, wonder she's a hit. She never stops; it's crazy," Monday said.

"Dagmar is an author for the limelight just like you."

"Oh, no, Ben. These days I'm an author for the attic."

Monday wasn't satisfied with her work. Her story with the pastor met a dead end. It somehow felt wrong to pair up a man who devoted his life to doing God's will with someone. She had a thriller in mind, but Dagmar already supplied and filled all the gaps in their publishing house. The public would laugh at her attempt.

Finally, boy meets boy; a girl meets girl, a man meets woman; Monday was tired of serving her usual romance dish.

No experience in her life lived up to fiction. Sexually, Monday saw the stars and beyond with Kenneth. Now, she was unable to write in her traditional gentleman roles. The one she imagined was flawed, cold, and no matter how hard Monday tried, she refused to have her female protagonist incur the male MCs' behavior.

There was nothing worse than a story where the female protagonist spent her time running after a man who didn't desire her and where she wallowed over him.

The block had never been more solid, so strong that the woman didn't even type virtual chapters as she had the habit of doing. Monday listened and engaged in conversations instead. Her behavior had drastically changed since the BookInc fair. Before the woman stayed at home writing in total seclusion, she was more present at the office. It was as though Monday needed to be in people's presence. Having dealt with similar issues, Ben wondered what the woman fled.

At another end of the rooftop, Kenneth listened to the discussions. From time to time, his ears distilled familiar giggles and laughter as he moved from group to group. The man got the impression of losing his sanity. Kenneth couldn't say he missed Monday, but one thing was sure he longed to see her, even if it were only for a few minutes. Was it the fact he was in Europe, and he knew Paris was only one hour and thirty minutes away by plane? Again the man couldn't certify the statement.

Meredith made sure the man followed specific paths to not cross Monday during the fair and on the roof. The task was tedious; the rooftop wasn't a football stadium. As if someone heard her silent pleas, more professionals came and added themselves to the after-fair drink feast. One could not take a step without almost bumping into someone. Kenneth stayed static and let people go to him.

The night invaded the sky, and the moon gave the sun a high-five and took its place. Kenneths' bladder was at the end of its course. Drunk, the man was two steps away from sticking his hose off the ledge and peeing on the pedestrians. He excused himself and tried to maintain a dignified walk as she hurried to find a washroom.

Luckily for him, there was no queue. Kenneth rushed to relieve himself. He thoroughly washed his hands and returned to the rooftop. The man had had enough drinks for the evening; tomorrow was another day. Thus, he began a tour to sign himself out.

He was saying goodbye to a group of journalists when he heard the laughter. This time the man sought where the sound came from with his eyes. It was one of those movie scenes. People moved naturally, but everything appeared to drift in slow motion, and the man saw her silhouette between the crack of space left.

Her lipstick shone bright, and the man's legs began to move without his approval. The woman stopped giggling and watched the man who made his way to her.

Bens' gaze followed Mondays', and both stared at Kenneth, who now stood in front of her.

"Hi, Kenneth."

The man's eyes fluttered shut a second as he registered and savored her voice.

"Good evening, Monday."

A little further off, Meredith got ready to storm to their position. Rob grasped her arm just in time.

"Rob, let go of my arm."

"I can't, Meredith. I can't let you ridicule yourself and risk your position. Let go of Kenneth, please. Stop running after your boss."

"Rob, I swear."

The man released her arm, and the woman got ready to pounce, only to realize Kenneth and Monday were no longer in sight. The couple had already made it to the first exit.

"Ben, I'm sorryㅡ."

"Go, I'm going to find Lennon anyway. Mr. Mosley, It was good to see you again." Ben gave Monday two mandatory goodbye kisses, shook Kenneths' hand, and left.

Kenneth and Monday were alone on the street; an awkward silence pulled up to their position.

"Eh, I didn't know you'd be here," Kenneth began.

"Neither did I."

"Then why are you here?" Kenneth asked with the odd and pretentious idea that perhaps the woman had come to find him.

"My publisher punished and banished me to the land of bratwurst und bier."

Kenneth smiled; the man's gaze traveled on her appearance. Monday seemed like a new woman every time they met, and for the moment, none of her avatars displeased him. Not even the Monday who stood before him with the very negligent-looking hairstyle.

"New hairstyle?"

"They're faux locks; they're there by nostalgia. I miss my real locks."

"Youㅡyou had dreadlocks," the man stammered to say, eyes widening with his exclamation.

Monday giggled, "yes, I chopped them."

"I see, and you wear glasses?"

Monday touched her rims, "yes, my eyesight isn't all that." Like the rest of me, Monday thought.

Kenneth nodded and cleared his throat, "ahem, eh; are you hungry? My hotel isn't far; there's a restaurant."

"No, I don't want to go to your hotel."

The man lifted his hands to a halt, "Monday, it's only to eat. I justㅡ," the man swiped a hand at the back of his head, "I just want to talk to you."

Monday pursed her lips. Her heart burned under her sweater. Dreaming of him was annoying but seeing Kenneth in the flesh was devasting.

"Iㅡ."

"I just want to talk, Monday."

If cupid and cherubins existed, they probably had the laughing fit of the century in front of Kenneth's stuttering stance.

"Kenneth, I don't think it's a goodㅡ."

"Let's go to your hotel then. I'll leave as soon as you decide to throw me out."

The woman sighed, "you'll leave when I tell you to?"

"Yes, I promise."

Monday turned away and began to walk away, the man followed her steps and their matching sneakers aligned. A corner smile sketched itself on the man's face as he looked down at their sneakers, walking side by side.

How much of a probability was there for them to possess the same brand and style of sneakers?

It seemed the man saw signs at his convenience.