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And there was a mirror in which I could only see my reflection. So, Isat and patiently waited thinking about my life, my happy childhood, thedeath of my Father defending Germany, the murder of my Mother one coldDecember night. These thoughts were interrupted by a slamming door and the clicking ofhigh heels. It was the woman who I saw no longer in uniform, but in moreoffice like attire that I had seen from American sitcoms which we hadseen via a West Berlin TV station. Her red hair rested on her shoulders,but went down to the middle of her chest. Her chest was covered by asmall, black jacket covering a baby blue collared shirt. Her legs werecovered by a navy blue skirt and pantyhose and black high heels crownedher feet. Those blue eyes looked at me and seemed to be inspecting myphysical appearance which frightened me, but somewhere gave me falsehope about the relationship I fantasized about. "Devin Marx, yes?" she asked, her thick, Russian accent hanging in theair. "Yes." I replied,. It'sjust that we were having a perfect day until that. And now I'm angry."Pulling away from Connie slightly, Tyler looked deep into her eyes."Well, you can either stand around and stay angry, or you can come havetea with me. Which of those sounds better?" Tea," Connie said, attempting to shake the scowl off her face. "Tea,definitely. We'll see if we can convince the waitress to put a littleFrangelico in there to take the edge off."Connie turned away from Tyler, back on task, and scanned the foyer ofthe 138th floor. Way up here, in one of the highest levels of SaturnBeta, everything looked fancy. Roman-style columns circled the foyer anddisplayed signs for space-cruises around the moons, luxury condos on thestation... and the tea room, which was literally called The Tea Room,according to its sign. Connie fingered Tyler's hand until she had hisattention, then guided him through the columns surrounding The TeaRoom's doors. Connie gave her name to the host, who ushered both of theminto.
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