DISTANCE
329 Words
Adrian had built a career on controlling distance.
Professional distance. Emotional distance. The exact distance between
what a client wanted to hear and what they needed to hear.
Nina destroyed distance casually.
She stole fries from his plate without asking.
She sent him articles at midnight with messages like READ PAGE 14 AND APOLOGIZE.
She disagreed with him in rooms where everyone else waited to see
what he thought first.
He began looking forward to it.
This was unacceptable.
So in Vienna he became formal.
Dr. Tavari.
Emails instead of late-night messages.
Separate cars.
No coffee waiting on her side of the table.
By dinner on the second day she had noticed.
“Did I do something?”
“No.”
“Then why are you behaving like I’m being audited?”
He kept reading.
“You’re imagining it.”
Her expression cooled.
That was worse than anger.
“You know,” she said, “for a man who sells insight, you’re remarkably
bad at lying.”
“I don’t sell insight.”
“What do you sell?”
“Clarity.”
“Then clarify this.”
He closed the folder.
The restaurant moved around them: glasses, low voices, candlelight.
He could tell her.
I want you. I don’t want to want you. We are working together. I am
responsible for this project. Every time you enter a room I know exactly
where you are.
Instead he said, “We should keep things professional.”
Nina went very still.
“Things?”
He had made it worse.
“What things, Adrian?”
He looked at her.
She waited.
He was saved by the waiter.
He had never hated good service more.
Later, alone in his hotel room, he found a message from her.
Page 14. Still waiting for the apology.
Adrian stared at it.
Then typed:
Your sample is biased.
Three dots appeared.
Disappear.
Appear again.
Her reply:
Coward.
He laughed despite himself.
She was right about that too.
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