I guess it had to be this way. Endings are rarely as beautiful as beginnings. Air whistled around the train, its passengers swaying to the rhythm as they sped along steel and timber to their various existences outside of corporate America. Darryl replayed memories over and over in his head.

He took note of the brunette staring his way. Her bright ruby red lipstick accentuated her almond eyes, and for a white girl, she had a wide nose. He saw her every day, and every day they locked eyes, smiled and nodded to each other.

He bit back tears. Beauty should never die. The brunette sat next to him. “Hi, I’m Gail.” She sat patiently, the scent of her perfume filled Darryl’s nostrils. He was instantly forced to look deep into the brown abyss of this gorgeous woman’s soul. “Darryl,” was all he could manage to get out. He was shocked. This gorgeous white woman, who no doubt probably worked as a lawyer, or in City Hall, was sitting here next to this big muscular black construction worker, wanting to get to know him. “What do you say we get off at the next stop?” Suddenly Darryl didn’t feel so sad anymore. “Yeah? Yeah, that sounds cool, Gail.” The way he said her name made her heart skip a beat.

Gail watched this man for months get on and off the train. They always locked eyes. They always smiled. For the first time today, she noticed there seemed to be no life in his face. She was curious as to why, she was curious to see if could change that.

Once of the train, they climbed out of the subway and out onto the street. “So, Darryl, what moves you?” Gail wasn’t going to waste this evening with pleasantries. A man she hardly knew looked as if he lost his best friend, and she wanted to help. 

Darryl looked up in surprise at the question, but he was ready with an answer, long before the question was ever asked, Darryl knew. He lived by this conviction, it motivated his movement, his speech, and despite being in a career he didn’t enjoy, it showed in his work. “Love, beauty, and art.” Gail couldn’t help getting turned on. They both sensed a sexual tension between them, but they both knew there were ingredients that needed to be mixed just right. “What about you, Gail? What drives you?” They arrived at a quaint neighborhood bar on Tenth street. The way her escaped from those beautiful succulent lips gave her goose bumps. Gail was a highly educated woman, but if she didn’t know any better, she’d swear she was falling in love. She knew it wasn’t lust—lust required different ingredients. A knowing of one’s person, but a disliking of the embodiment of their soul, yet a yearning for their touch.

When she smiled, her eyes squinted every so lightly, and the corners of her mouth turned up with great expression. “Art, love, both of which I find beautiful.” Two drinks were ordered. Gail turned and looked Darryl straight into his soul. “We’ve made eye contact on the blue line for over six months. I have dreamed about approaching you, but I had to feel you out. We’d always smile, then part ways. That was always the best part of my day. Your smile. Your eyes. I noticed something different about you today.”
Darryl stared straight back at her. He liked her style. “I don’t believe beauty should die, and today I got wind an old friend has moved on.” Gail took a seductive sip of her drink. She inhaled the stale air deeply, “My love, beauty can be created, but it cannot die.” Passion dripped from her every word. “Oh yeah?”

Leaning in and almost whispering, Gail said, “No my love, beauty will live on here,” tapping her temple, “and here,” placing her hand on his chest. “Who died?” “Not who. A guy who owned a small art studio, well he would display a lot of art in this shop of his. He closed it. Said some developers offered him a nice deal. It was the brightest spot in my childhood. But sitting here with you, hearing your words. You’re right, those memories will live forever in me.” Gail rested her hand on top of his. “We should leave.”

Back at his apartment, Gail made love to this man she only just met an hour ago. It was fierce, passionate, it was the realest thing she had ever experienced in twenty-nine years of existence. Every orgasm took her to a new height of pleasure and ecstasy. Theirs was a passionate love of art, filled with beauty. They regretted it deep inside, although the passion shared between them bordered a fierce, almost violent love.