The story is told from Roger's POV.

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It had been four months since Mimi disappeared.

I was long past the stage of being worried. If she wanted to screw up her life, fine. But there was not much more I could do for her.

Even so, I couldn't help but feel like something was missing from my life.

I finally had landed a job at the Life Café, and aside from being the busboy, I was allowed to play once per week, on Wednesday nights. It wasn't a bad gig, and I played a lot of my old stuff, but one song… "Your Eyes," seemed to be everyone's favorite. I didn't want to play it a lot at first, but I had this silly dream that one day Mimi would walk in and hear what I had written for her.

Mark was still at Buzzline, despite his declaration to quit. Some things never change…

And some things do.

It was Wednesday night, my night to try and shine. There were a few regulars who had come just to hear me play, and there were others with unfamiliar faces who were just trying to enjoy their dinner. I bused tables for a few hours until 7 o'clock when James, the manager, signaled me to go on the stage. With hidden excitement, I made my way over to my guitar.

I also had a drummer and a keyboard player as backup. The drummer, Patrick, wasn't bad, though I wished Angel could drum for me. She would put any other drummer to shame. The keyboard player, Josh, was actually from my old band. Once he had heard I had gotten a permanent gig, he asked to join up with me in the middle of the week.

So there we were, a small trio in the middle of New York City, feeling important for just one night.

We began to play "Night Life," a steady rock ballad, and I noticed a girl with a small frame and brown hair make her way over to the bar. I could have sworn it looked like Mimi. The distraction, however, made me hit the wrong note, earning me a distasteful look from some of the patrons. I shook my head and focused on my music.

After we finished the song (and a small applause congratulated us), the girl whom I had noticed earlier looked over. She had the same face and same smile as Mimi, but her eyes looked different. They weren't scared or in pain; they were mocking, as if to say she knew she was hot. She flashed this look to several different guys in the restaurant, and a few of them raised their eyebrows and stared. She was dressed in high-heel black boots, with a black miniskirt and a spaghetti strap black top.

If I didn't know better, I would have said she looked like a hooker.

Patrick drummed impatiently, waiting for me to start the next song. Taking his hint, I started the next song, "What You Own." Mark had helped with that song, though I had changed the parts about Angel and Mimi in it. With her, though, sitting in my audience that night, I wanted to mention her so badly. It didn't seem to matter that she had left with no trace and dropped out of my life like a falling star. She was here, she was real, and she was alive. The virus hadn't killed her—yet.

I don't own emotion…I rent…

What was it about that night?

Upon those words, Mimi's eyes found the stage. She looked surprised, knowing I recognized her and she recognized me. I was singing my heart out straight to her.

Conviction…in an isolating gaze…

She blinked, and then turned to the bartender, I suppose, to ask for another shot. She turned around, refilled, and started paying more attention to the little show on stage than the other guys in the restaurant.

After the song ended, it was time for a break. Patrick went outside to smoke a cigarette, and James went to the bar for a drink. I followed him, intending to talk with Mimi. As soon as she saw me headed her way, though, she looked a little frightened and headed for the door. I tried to follow her, but lost her as soon as she left.

I could just feel the strings of my heart pulling a little tighter.