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Right, but what about the first time it was used? What if you're the first person who ever spoke of the heart and spring flowers? Then it wouldn't be a cliché. It would be new. Yeah, he says doubtfully. But it's been done to death. Too late for us. For us, she agrees. Let's get back, he smiles. He offers his hand to her, the kindness almost unbearable, and she rubs angrily at her eyes with the sleeve of her coat. She doesn't quite understand at that moment, but later in the evening -- after they have found their way back to their driver, who awaits and welcomes without a word, their hands inter-  |
twined as they sit in relieved silence all the way back to the guest house in the old city -- when they are sitting at the marble table in the courtyard, sodium lights dancing on the waters of the outdoor pool, cups of tea blessedly hot in their hands, the both of them laughing about something, she will see a film crew up on the second floor, no doubt filming an installment for an ongoing historical drama, blazing spotlights directed at a corner of a balcony where an actor dressed in ancient costume and a fearsome, protruding beard looks out over the darkened rooftops of tile and brick below, as if he is looking out over an ancient outpost, and she will think that one can easily be fooled into believing that this entire city is a giant set, and that the actor is actually on stage, and yet neither she nor her companion will ever be a part of it, and the thought will serve as comfort as the man in the  |
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