Stella swallowed hard and slowly turned around. It took a lot of effort even though it was such a small movement. Now facing him Stella slowly looked up at Anton. He hadn't mocked her, at least, hadn't laughed, had even acknowledged that he realized how hard it had been for her to tell him what she did. Him being so nice did not help in a way. A 'I'm sorry, but I am with Magdalene' would have cut this a lot shorter.<br/><br/>"I'm sorry, Anton," she said, "you have enough on your plate without your dorky neighbor bothering you."  She looked up at his face, which seemed confused more than anything. "Just forget what I told you, I don't know why I told you that, it wasn't fair of me. And I'm sorry for not telling you that I am moving out."<br/><br/>More than anything right now she suddenly felt tired, bone weary. It was clear the feelings were not reciprocated, and why would they be. OK, so the curvy goddess of underwear and bikinis fibbed about moving in with him, but that changed nothing. Not really. She still planned on moving out and then staying the hell away from men for good. Ostensibly there was nothing to her which would attract anyone but tall, fish keeping trombonists who had demented mothers moving in with them. Fabulous.<br/><br/>Tesla had sat politely for a few moments before deciding to make movement for Anton a hazard by winding figure eights around not her legs, but Anton's along with increasingly loud and unmistakably demanding vocalizations.  He would miss Lics, she knew, enough that she now would not be able to let him roam outside anymore after they moved. She knew he would go search for the black Persian siren. Damn those cats. Damn them to hell, it had all started with Lics escaping and moving into her apartment. Her life had been so simple then. Music, cat, more music, cat, some knitting, books, and no irrational feelings about men who were into other women.<i>Damned cats!</i>