text: //I woke up before my alarm. I fell back asleep I had the following dream that felt like it last for hours. When my alarm woke me, I realized I had been asleep for 15 minutes. I love my room. Kitchen, dining, living, study, and bed room all in one connected space, with only a separation for the shower and toilet. To your left when you enter is a wall length window and sliding glass doors through which a secluded beach and the Pacific can be seen. I sat on the little arm of the sectional leather couch in my living room area. My back was to the door to the rest of the house. I could hear muffled music coming through it. Below me was an identical copy of my room belonging to my co-writer, the keyboard player in our band. Further below him was our humble, cool, little basement studio. Our two rooms were connected by a two story common area that existed in a never-settling variety of furniture arrangements. Tonight the ground floor was a dance pit, and the second floor a place for the dancers to rest and talk. I was focused on my pounding heart and head when I heard the doorknob cautiously begin to turn. I leaped up and ran to the door. Already a crowd was trying to push its way through the door frame. I held my arms as wide open as I could and herded the partygoers back to the commons. No, I can’t. I’m done for tonight, thanks. Next time, I promise. Happy Birthday but really I can’t. With tremendous effort, I reclosed the door and locked it. The knob twisted in vain two, three times before coming to a stop. Only then did I notice, I had let one person slip through under my arm, and now she stood on the tiles of the kitchen area. I had forgotten her name. I think it was Kate. We had met before, and I knew her well. She loved the Beatles, and we bonded listening to them. Her father left her all their albums in vinyl. She was from Seattle and moved to LA three years ago to work with a fashion company. She was always dressed well. Tonight she wore a simple white shirt with sleeves that went down to just past her elbows and an incredibly short black skirt that showed her long legs. Her skin was so pale it almost seemed to glow. But, truthfully, I only remember clearly her red, full lips. “Welcome back,” I greeted her. “Want something to drink?” “I’m set, thanks,” she said gesturing to the red solo cup in her hand. I went back to the living room area and knelt by the entertainment consol. I placed the needle on Revolver, my favorite Beatle’s album. She followed and sat close to me when I returned to my spot on the couch. “Shall we kiss a bit?” she asked, slowly throwing her leg over my lap, straddling me and gently touching my cheeks. I reached up and held her round face in my hands. Her curly, chestnut hair fell around me as she closed the gap between her lips and mine. Kissing her was like kissing the air. Her lips were so soft they felt like feathers on mine, even when I held her head close. It was like eating the lightest cream that melts before it reaches your tongue leaving only the taste behind. When she pulled away for air the only proof I had we had kissed was her ruby lips so close to me, and the taste of strawberry lip balm on my lips. She hummed the bass to Taxman. We continued to kiss through side A. “I am sorry, but I am too tired for any more fun tonight,” she said apologetically when I stood to turn over the record. “You are perfect,” I said. “I feel the same way.” This was not entirely true. I also felt tremendously lonely, but she was a helping with that and other feelings. She rose slowly, reached her arms around my neck and kissed me again. I let her lead me back to the bed area, feeling the floor transition from wood to carpet. I held her close and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep as Revolver spun down. I woke to the sun shining on my face through the window above my desk. I looked over my favorite guitars, that I kept arrayed in a semi-circle in my study area, gleaming in the morning light. I will need to polish them soon. She was still by my side, sat up a bit and looking through her phone. I rose slightly and saw she was typing out a lie to send to a boy named Mike. “Good morning,” I said sleepily. “Good morning, love,” she responded, setting down her phone, and leaning in for another breathless kiss. “I made some coffee.” “You are perfect,” I said dragging myself out of bed to the steaming coffee pot across the room. I poured a cup and turned around to see her. She wore one of my t-shirts and her brown hair was wonderfully disheveled. Her eyes were fixed on the screen in her hands. I drank half the coffee and placed the cup on the counter. I stepped onto the cool tiles of the bathroom. I turned on the water and stepped into the shower. After a minute, she joined me, and we fulfilled the unspoken promise from the night before. We had sex, holding on to the tub’s faucet and door’s handle bar for support as the hot water and steam made everything wet. After we finished, we rested in the tub for a while letting the hot water pour over us. She declared she wanted to go to the beach. I finished my coffee as she put on a bikini she found in my closet. She left through the sliding door, struggling a bit with its weight. I rummaged through her clothing and bag, looking for some identification that could tell me her name. I found only her wallet, which contained 50 dollars and a gift card to some boutique. I tried her phone, but it was locked with a pass code. Frustrated, I ate a breakfast, before joining her wearing just my boxer shorts. It was early enough that the sand was not yet hot. I found her with her toes standing on the wet sand, her feet occasionally submerged by the cold, Pacific water. When I reached her, she took my hand and pulled me into the surf and we played and wrestled in the waves. It was fun. Eventually, we found ourselves back on the dry sand letting the midmorning sun evaporate the water from our bodies. “I am sorry,” I said at last. “But, I can’t remember your name.” “You can call me, Kitty,” she said not the least bit offended. My gut told me the name was as fake as the one she told me the last time, but I dared not question it. I forgot it just the same. We lay there for hours talking and holding hands, not wanting to move anything. When we stood up our backs were coated in a thick layer of sand. We washed ourselves in the Pacific, before returning to my lovely room on the beach. //Thank you for reading.