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Dana. Why couldn't he get that damn name out of his head? Every day, everywhere he went, every woman he met in the course of his daily routine, all reminded him of Dana. He couldn't understand why she was so persistent in his mind.

Since nothing more could be recalled from this memory, Roger went forward another week. Here he was sitting at a bus stop near the Big Apple, waiting to catch a ride back to his apartment. He had been looking around for the sake of interest when he saw the girl walking toward him, unaware of his presence. The brilliant blue burnoose had been replaced by a dark-gray business suit. The way in which she walked and the way her suit-dress flowed about her legs entranced the gentleman on the bench, who became aware of the drabness of his own suit.
A thought came to him: "What do gentlemen do in a big city like this?" He wasn't sure if he should get up or ignore her, so he remained seated and waited to see if she would notice him.
What luck! Still oblivious to his presence, she sat down right next to him. He couldn't believe his fortune! But his delight was soon tainted with the troubling question: "What if she doesn't remember me?"
After some time, he tentatively tested the waters. "Good afternoon," he said. She didn't look back, but replied "Good afternoon," very business-like.
Having made initial contact, the butterflies in his stomach began to subside. Feeling more confident, he asked, "Which direction are you headed?"
"Home. Why do you ask?" She maintained her gaze out into the street.
Roger wasn't sure now how to proceed. He debated with himself for a moment over whether he should introduce himself or keep up the small talk. Finally he got up the courage to speak again: "I was trying to remember where I'd seen you before. Were you, perhaps, at a business party last week?" He cringed internally. That wasn't at all what he'd planned to say!
For the first time, the slender woman looked back at him. She searched his face for a moment, and a look of realization slowly came to her. Roger felt better now, knowing that she had finally recognized him.
"Yes, and I believe you were, too. How are you?" Her voice seemed more familiar now, almost as if they knew each other as close friends.
"Well, I'm up to my ears in pre-holiday accounting, but otherwise I'm fine," he replied.
"Oh, you too? I mean, I'm not an accountant, but I know exactly what it feels like. Did you just get off work?"
"Yeah. I'm waiting for the 36-L. Which direction are you headed?"
"Oh, I have to catch the 22-A. I live in the Brooklyn area."
"Brooklyn? I'm right next door to you! I'm on Manhattan Island."
"Manhattan? Wow! The places out there must be fabulous! And expensive, too, I imagine."
"Fabulous and expensive they are, but you can't beat the view. My balcony faces the Statue of Liberty."
"That's wonderful! In Brooklyn, we don't have any sort of view like that." She sighed, then continued, "In fact, the only view we have is of the next house. And the alleyways are complete slums! I wish I could live in a nicer part of town like Manhattan."
"You can. Why don't you move?" Roger's heart went out to her. He imagined her living in some dumpy apartment where she had to boil the water before drinking it, watching constantly for people trying to break in. The thought of such a lowly existence was almost unbearable.
"I don't have the money. Secretaries, despite popular belief, don't get paid very much. I'm almost constantly struggling to keep above water and pay the rent. I just wish my boss would pay me more!" She sighed again. They sat there for a moment, listening to the drone of the traffic, punctuated here and there by the occasional shriek of a horn or the furious epithet of a dissatisfied driver. After a few minutes, she looked up at him again and said, with a renewed voice, "So, what's your name?"
"Oh, my name?" Roger was caught off guard. He had completely forgotten to introduce himself and ask her name. He kicked himself internally and said, "My name's Roger. How about you?"
"I'm Dana. Dana Wells. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Same." The accountant couldn't seem to figure out anything more to say. He was astounded that she had actually asked him for his name. He knew then, having grown up with the ingrained belief that perfect strangers don't give out their names, that she was genuinely interested in him. Roger spluttered a little bit, then finally managed to get out, "Where do you work, Dana?"
"I work as a personal secretary to a Mr. Dan Blather, although I'm beginning to consider looking for another job." Again, she looked away. It was as though talking about her job caused her enough pain to force her into a sort of mental seclusion. Again, Roger wanted to comfort her, but didn't know how.
"Mr. Blather? Isn't he the one that knocked me down last week at the party?"
"Yes, he is. He is an extremely hard man to get along with. He gets what he wants, and if he doesn't get it, someone else suffers as a result." Her voice has picked up a twinge of agitation, like a fist clenching and getting ready to strike. Roger could sense her anger and decided it was time to take a stand.
"Why, the twisted tyrant! But why would he knock me down just for saying hello to you?"
Dana seemed to draw back even further now, as if he had just punched her in the stomach. It took her a few moments to respond, and when she was ready, she said, "He's not just my boss. He's my boyfriend."
This time, it was Roger's turn to recoil. Of all the things he imagined could get in the way of a relationship with her, this was the last thing he had expected to hear. He tried to think of a response.
"I'm sorry, Roger. I need to catch the bus."
"Oh, no, Dana! Don't... don't go. Come on with me, we'll talk more. I'll buy you a drink." Roger felt as though to lose her now would be to have the life drained out of him. He implored her to stay. Reluctantly, she began to collect her things. When the bus pulled up, she stood, looked at the bus, hesitated a moment more, then sat down again. The bus driver looked back at her strangely, shook his head and drove off. She looked at him again and said, "That's very kind of you. I have some time."

Later, they were sitting across from one another at a table in a Manhattan restaurant. A waiter approached the table and greeted them. "Good evening, sir, madam. I'll be your waiter this evening. Have you decided what you'd like?"
Roger let Dana go first. "I'll have the cajun salmon, please," she said, "and a 7-Up."
"Very good. You'll find the seafood here is our specialty. And you, sir?"
"I would like a bowl of clam chowder, please," said Roger.
"Excellent choice, sir. Would you be having something to drink with your meal tonight?"
Roger glanced across to the beautiful woman in front of him. She looked back at him and smiled. Then he turned back to the waiter and said, "Yes. A bottle of champagne, please."
"Very good. I shall return with your champagne momentarily." The waiter turned and walked back to the kitchen.
"Champagne?" Dana asked surprisedly. "What's the occasion?"
"Well," began Roger, "I just thought that, since you and I are here together in a nice Manhattan restaurant, perhaps this would make the beginning of a good professional, if not personal, relationship."
"Relationship? You mean you're interested in me? I mean, you mean you're serious?" She was even more surprised now.
"Dana, look. You not more than half an hour ago told me how dissatisfied you were with your job." He spoke now as though he were driven by fire. "Your voice was full of anger toward your boyfriend, and considering what he did to me last week, I don't blame you. Could you possibly be more obvious?"
Dana took a slightly offended look, but it quickly disappeared as she realized that he was right. The offense turned into sadness.
"Look," he continued, "I didn't mean to be harsh. But any man who treats a total stranger like that can be no less than a major embarrassment. And by your look, it would appear that he abuses you, too. Am I right?"
Dana, now crying softly, nodded her head.
"Come on." He reached out and took her hand, and she looked up at him. "I'm sorry for being so harsh. I was angry at him, too."
"It's all right. You're very perceptive, and you're very right." She was calming down now. "I'm very unhappy in my relationship with him. We've been going out for more than a year, but he might as well be married to his job, for all that he loves it. I'm beginning to think he loves it more than he loves me, and that he just keeps me around to use when he's not working." She muttered something inaudible under her breath.
"Dana," said Roger, "Come with me. Leave your boyfriend. You're unhappy. I promise I would never treat you harshly." He looked her in the eye and repeated softly, "Never."
At this point, the waiter returned with two champagne glasses and a bottle. He placed the elegant stemware gently in front of his customers, quickly and expertly popped the cork, and poured in just the right amount of champagne for each of them. "Your dinners will be served in about fifteen minutes. Busy evening tonight, you know." With that, he walked away again.
Dana took up her glass and held it out. Roger did the same.
"You realize," she said with a smile, "that it'll be difficult to convince Dan that I'm no longer interested in him."
"I know," Roger replied. "But you can do it." Now he put on an almost Shakespearean air and said, "A toast... to us. May the future be kind and gentle to us, and keep us healthy, and whatever else." He laughed.
She laughed too, and grinned. "Cheers!" she said, and raised her glass to meet his.

Later that evening, Dana walked up to her door. As she was pulling out her keys, she noticed that Dan was standing there, waiting for her.
"You're home much later than usual, Dana. Where were you?"
"Oh, Dan!" In her surprise, she had dropped her keys. "Oh! You... you startled me! Let me pick..."
"Oh no, allow me." With a somewhat mechanical swoop, the keys were now dangling by his fingers. She smiled and reached out to take them back, but he closed his hand around them and said, "First, tell me where you were."
"Dan, could I please have my keys?" At first, she was confused as to why he was doing this.
"Not until you tell me. I've been waiting here for you for an hour."
"I was having dinner."
"Didn't we agree that tonight was OUR night to go out to dinner? I thought I was going to pick you up here and..."
"No, I'm sorry," she said in mock confusion. "I-I completely forgot about tonight. I haven't been feeling all that well today, and... well, you know. I tend to forget things when I'm tired."
"You seemed just fine at work today. Why suddenly so sick?" His voice hadn't changed.
Now it was her turn to take the offensive. "Look, Dan, I simply forgot that we were having dinner tonight! I'm sorry! But please stop patronizing me like this! I..." She retreated, thinking that she had overreacted. She knew it wasn't wise to be angry at him. "I'm sorry. Can we plan on another evening?"
"I'm sure we could. How about tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow? Uh..." she acted like she was trying to remember something. "No, I'm sorry. Tomorrow night I have to babysit for the Jones's. I'll have Friday night available though."
"Friday night, then. And this time, don't forget." With that, he gave the keys back to her and left.
She stood there for a moment, watching him walk down the hall and thinking about just how much she wanted to tell him "No" to everything. No to dinner on Friday. No to the business parties. No to even letting him into her home ever again. He walked outside, never looking back, and was gone. She unlocked her door and went inside.

Several weeks later, after several secret dates, Dana and Roger were truly in love. They went to movies together, ate at some of the nicer restaurants in town, even went bowling together. They were, in such short time, beginning to think about what it would be like to spend the rest of their lives together. It wasn't too long before the subject came up in conversation, when they were talking over plates of steamed rice and Hunan chicken.
"Dana?"
"Yes, Roger?"
"I've been thinking about something. For a while now, I've needed to tell you something that I don't think I've ever said before in my life."
"Yes? What is it?"
"I've been thinking about how wonderful it would be if..."
"If what?" She was eager, and stopped eating momentarily.
"Well, you know, if... uhh... I'm sorry. I can't talk about it now."
"Talk about what? Are you embarrassed?"
"Yes, in a manner of speaking. I just don't know if I'm ready to..."
"Roger, you've got me hanging by a thread! What is it?"
"I just don't know if I'm ready to ask you if you want to... you know... marry me?"
Dana gasped. Never before had Dan asked her this question. At least, not in a serious way. He had a couple of times mentioned what he thought life would be like once they were married, but never had he asked her like Roger was asking her now.
"Roger... I-I don't know what to say! I'm... I'm speechless!"
"I understand. Take your time. We've only been together for a few weeks." He was beginning to feel disappointed.
"No, no, it's not that, it's just... Oh my god!" She gasped again, this time in horror, and tried to duck under the table.
"What?" Now his adrenaline was really pumping. "What? What is it?"
"It's Dan! Please don't let him see me!" She was still trying to climb under the table, with little success.
"What? Dan's here? Holy cow!" He tried to turn around to see where the man was. Mr. Blather was walking directly toward him, and it was clear by the look on his face that he'd already seen them.
Dan approached the table slowly, almost too calmly. As he got nearer, Roger was able to see a small bulge in his coat pocket. He wasn't sure what it was, but he knew it meant trouble. He got up and blocked the man's path.
"Sorry, Mister. This aisle's closed," he said, already preparing himself for battle.
Dan didn't stop walking. Instead, he swung his arm at Roger's head, sending him almost literally flying into the barstools. The accountant got up, shook his head and saw that Dan had grabbed Dana by the shoulders and was attempting to drag her away. She was fighting furiously and screaming at the top of her lungs, and other people were gathering around to watch the spectacle. Roger heard somebody call the police, and then he rushed forward, grabbed his adversary and pulled him away from Dana.
"Let go! She's not yours anymore!" Roger grabbed him again and braced himself for another blow. Dan got up and made a punch to his opponent's face. This time, Roger blocked it and returned a punch. And so it went, until Dan finally gained the upper hand, knocking the accountant down and leaving him somewhat dazed. Through the fog, Roger was able to see him grab Dana again. Sirens approached from outside, and Dana suddenly screamed, "NO! I WON'T GO WITH YOU! I HATE YOU!!"
Then there was silence. Dan stood there silently, and for the first time he was showing signs of pain. He stared at her for a moment, then calmly said, "Fine, then. If that's the way you feel about it... it's been nice knowing you, Dana!" And with that, he produced a gun, the bulge Roger had seen moments before.
Chaos ensued. Roger heard only one shot, but in fact there had been two. There was a scream, the crash of shattering glass, and the horrible sound of bodies thumping to the ground. He cried out "NO!"

"Roger? You okay?" asked Arthur. He was standing at the door to his office. It was dark outside.
"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, I must have been daydreaming." Roger looked up again and noticed that the entire suite was empty, save for his colleague.
"Daydreaming? You've been here way past the time you normally leave, and when I walk by, I hear you scream 'NO!' What's going on?"
"Oh, nothing. I'm kind of tired, and I probably fell asleep. I think I should go home."
"Yes," said Arthur with the air of an old friend, "I think you should. You need a ride?"
"No, thanks. I'll take the bus. Goodnight, Art. I'll see you in the morning." Roger put on his coat, picked up his briefcase and headed for the door. He opened it, hesitated for a moment, and walked out.

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