+TYPED OUT-

+GRETA-

Back in New York, Kenneth woke up and followed his usual routine. He jogged, got coffee at Central Park, and got ready for work.

Two weeks passed, and Kenneth acted as though nothing had happened. He read Mondays' messages and switched on his unread option. Thus, Monday imagined the man hadn't opened them. Kenneth didn't want to talk because it would mean explaining his aversion to smoking. The man wasn't ready to face that part of his past. He didn't torment himself with questions. Categorical and arbitrary, the man sealed any doubts concerning his decision.

Life resumed its monotonous course for Kenneth.

Meetings, talks, more meetings, and even more talks, the man refrained from evoking Monday in any way. The task was easy; rare were those who knew about Monday and him, and it was not Meredith or Rob who were going to spark a conversation about her.

No, the debate came from elsewhere a week later.

"Kenni, Kenni."

"Wow, Lara," the man yelled as he took the monster hug the four-year-old gave him.

"Lara, come here. Let me finish that twist."

Kinky coils caramel skin, Gretas' daughter, triggered images the man didn't anticipate.

The man saw Monday and her full head of curls. Kenneth thought of his theory about women with ringlets and frizz. Monday didn't really fit the bill. The woman shone for sure and caught people's attention with her bright-colored outfits and flashy lipsticks, but she had a discreet personality.

For the man who loved a good conversation, one of the most memorable moments was when he returned to Mondays' hotel after the rooftop party. Kenneth gave himself a mental slap. Why was he thinking of her?

He needed a focal point, so he returned his gaze to Lara.

The little girl had one neat side of her head with a twisted pigtail while the hair on the other side stood up, waiting to be combed and styled.

"I thought you forgot."

"No, how can I forget my best friend's birthday?"

Like every year, they dined together. Greta never threw a party; she invited her close friends, which meant Kenneth, Rose, her housekeeper, Mr. Peterson, her gardener, and Ronald, her chauffeur. The woman was unique. She seemed to care for nothing and everything at the same time.

"Lara."

The little girl hurried to her seat, and her mother proceeded to do her hair. Greta had the means to get the best hairdressers, but it was a mother's duty to do her daughters' hair for her.

"So, how have you been?" Kenneth asked as he watched the woman twist Laras' hair.

"I should be asking you that. I haven't seen you in months," Greta returned.

"I was busy. It's the fair season andㅡ."

The man stopped; the word fair acted as a trigger that began to free unwarranted images. Kenneth cleared his throat, "ㅡI had to attend."

"hum, there you go. It's finished."

Lara stepped down and went straight to Kenneth. Unlike Morgans' children, Lara never stressed him. She was almost a year old when Greta adopted her. Kenneth was there on the day his friend brought her back from Uganda.

"Oh, aren't you pretty like this."

The little girl smiled and patted his knee before running off and coming back with her stuffed rhino.

"Gosh," Kenneth exclaimed.

Kenneth had brought a random gift from one of the many voyages. He never thought the little girl would even play with it.