At noontime he finished making notes on the file he was reviewing and left for lunch. He looked out the window, first at the people in the street, then up at the cloudless sky, and decided to leave his coat in the office and just wear his suit jacket and hat.

The restaurant was elegant and quiet and he smiled diffidently when he handed the check girl his hat. The Maitre'd bowed, Good afternoon Mr. Livingston. Im afraid your usual table is occupied, but I can give you another close by. Harold smiled, That will be fine. Harold sat and the waiter came over immediately, Good afternoon sir. Harold smiled and nodded properly. Will you have the special sir? Yes, I think I will have the duckling, thank you. And a tomato juice cocktail sir? Yes, please.

Harold sipped his tomato juice and looked around surreptitiously, vaguely wondering what the drinks tasted like that were being served. He did not care for cocktails, but he thought he might, just might, have a martini sometime, but the thought was fleeting and tenuous.

He enjoyed his lunch and briefly wondered how many different waiters had served him since he had been coming here???? My goodness, there really wouldnt be any way of knowing. Or Maitre'ds or hat check girls or washroom attendants or boot blacks or… he smiled and chuckled inwardly, or even how many ducklings. Maybe tomorrow he would try to… Hmmm, tomorrow… stuffed veal chops… Just might be able to, you know. Only been on the menu a few years. He brushed his lips lightly with the napkin one last time, then got up and left the restaurant.

He stood just outside the door for a moment, then slowly edged into the lunch-hour crowd and walked to a nearby department store. He browsed quickly in the racks of ties then went to the lingerie department and walked slowly around the display cases looking at the many items on the countertops, in the cases, and especially on the manikins. A few times he brushed his hand against the sheer softness of the garments and allowed his body to give voice to a slight tingle of excitement. He continued strolling through the department for a few more minutes, then left and returned to his office.

He worked on a few more files until about four oclock when he called again. There was that delicious feeling of anticipation as the second ring faded and he heard the click that meant that he would be hearing her voice: Hello, this is the recorded information line for the Stuyvesant Museum. If you are calling for other than General Information, please call—He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his desk—the new sculpture garden is now open during regular museum hours. In it are works by 19th and 20th century American and European artists. In the Willnymer Gallery there is a special showing of 14th and 15th century Japanese prints, now through the end of the month. The exhibition consists—he was smiling as he listened and gently brushed his cheek with the fingertips of his right hand, allowing her voice to flow through him in gentle, soothing currents that made his body feel unaccustomedly alive with an unknown energy—program of lectures, music and dance recitals are scheduled for the evenings. Tonight is a performance of traditional Indian dances related to Shiva. Tomorrow the Bartholemew Quartet will play the music of Handel, Beethoven, and Bartok, while on—His smile broadened, Yes, I think thats wonderful, and he felt a slight flush at hearing himself, and was silent again as he did not want to miss too much of her voice—for ticket information call the museum ticket office. Admission to the Dunbar Gallery is always free where fine paintings, sculptures, graphics—he nodded his head and closed his eyes as little dots of light flashed by and images flowed through his body. He was still brushing his cheek and smiling when he told her her voice was beautiful, then quickly silenced so he could listen—If you have missed any part of this recording—Her voice blended in with the music it created within him and he felt it as well as heard it and his body once again moved in time to it—Thank you for calling the Stuyvesant Museum and have a nice day. He did not hear the click, he was still experiencing the music…

He replaced the phone and continued to keep his eyes closed until the music started to ebb, then he opened them and leaned back in his chair and sighed almost inaudibly as his minds eye watched the music drift away…

then he looked at the phone, Have a nice day. He breathed deeply and took another file from the pile on the left side of his desk.

At five oclock he closed the file he was working on, brushed the paper dust off his desk, put his pencils and pens in their proper place, and did the same with everything else, centering his calendar just so, and put the morning paper in his briefcase before leaving.

He read the evening paper on the way home, and when he arrived he hung up his coat, put away his hat, and gave Virginia the morning paper. She loved to read the bridge game and work the crossword puzzle. Thank you, Harold.

Youre quite welcome, Virginia, and he pecked her on the cheek. Then he pecked Helen. How did everything go today?

Fine, Harold. How was your duckling?

O, it was good.

Not too salty?

No, no, as a matter of fact it was just right.

O, I am happy to hear that. You have to be careful with duckling, you know. Very greasy.

Yes, I know. But it was rendered properly. He started upstairs to his rooms.

Dinner will be ready in half an hour, Harold.

Fine, Helen.

We’re having a little change tonight.

O?

Yes. We're having peas and carrots with the lamb rather than cauliflower.

O, good. Good, and he continued up the stairs. He hung up his jacket and turned on his phonograph and put on a recording of arias sung by Renata Tebaldi. As he listened he looked through his carefully filed collection of autographed pictures of opera stars and took out his favorite of her and glanced at it from time to time, hearing his Monday voice blending in an extraordinary way with Tebaldi… O, how he loved Monday nights. The music of her voice was still with him, and the exquisite magic of Tebaldi, both carressing him as he sat in his chair, all those glorious dreams of music flowing from his soul through his hands as the poets voice read lyrics that invited him to find the melody to clothe them, and he breathed deeply as the experience of those memories was once more reawakened, not to be re-imagined, as the images had long since been distilled and annihilated, but their memory was still there… the imagined joys were still there… the ecstasies were still there… hidden away in the warm folds of his brain where they could never be destroyed by any hand, and though the once brilliant images of concert halls and applause were now only flashes of light passing by his closed eyes, the experience, O, God, the tingle of the experience breathed itself eternally in his soul and he held Tebaldis picture in his hand, his attitude and all his being a prayer of thanks to her and the music and his Monday voice as he listened with his heart…

At dinner each reviewed their day and they smiled and chatted pleasantly, each trying to make the others happy. Virginia was almost shaking with excitement as she related to Harold what had happened at the supermarket. It was just about the most frightening thing that has ever happened to me.

Really? What was it?

She smiled at Helen, I have already told Helen, but I was checking the eggs—to make certain they werent cracked you know—Harold nodded—when all of a sudden there was the most terrible explosion—Helen started to giggle—it really was you know, Helen. I know dear, Im sorry. Harold smiled and looked at them, but said nothing. Well, there was this terribly dreadful explosion and I dropped the carton of eggs—in the case so no damage was done, thank goodness—but I was trembling so badly I could not move. Finally, after what seemed ages, a clerk came by and I asked him what had happened—I thought there were gangsters trying to rob the store—and he told me someone had dropped a seltzer bottle—Helen started giggling again and Harold smiled then chuckled and Virginia grinned, I know it seems silly now, but I was absolutely terrified. And then, to top it off, I forgot the eggs, and she started giggling too.