There was more that happened that day in Atlantic City, over fifteen years ago. For he’d seen another girl on that beach, and she’d left an impression similarly etched into his mind. Though the moment with her was a little different.

Joe had been enchanted from the dizzying carnival and all that had happened there. He stepped away from it, the lights and the music still spinning in his mind, her mirrored lenses like windows into his soul. His eyes found the sandy steps that led down to the beach, and he staggered toward them, wanting to sit, to look at the ocean, and perhaps bring himself slowly back down from wherever he’d risen to. But then he was almost run over by a roving pack of teenagers.

They were all much older than he, and clearly they enjoyed that same independence he so yearned for. They ran with reckless abandon, their expressions snarky, like they owned the boardwalk, like it was their domain, and no one else’s. They were each half-dressed atop their swim suits, as though making a quick exit from the beach, likely after doing something mischievous. One guy carried a girl on his back and she laughed crazily. Joe thought surely they were drunk, or perhaps on something. Maybe both. He was caught in the middle of them as they dashed by on all sides. He spun to avoid them, and was successful, at least initially. Then he ran right into the girl who brought up the rear of the group. She stopped with an annoyed hush and looked at him—the kid who had impeded her path.

Like the girl at the carnival, she too was much older, on the cusp of high school and college age, but in the moment she looked like she couldn’t have cared less about either of those places. Her hair was wet, even a bit sandy, and she wore only a bikini and cut-off jean shorts which she hadn’t even bothered to button up completely as she ran to catch up with the others. He could still feel the chill wetness of her skin and her suit from where they’d bumped against one another. For the time being they stood at about the same height, but in just a year’s time Joe knew he would tower over her. She looked at him as though having that same thought. He returned her stare, unable to look away, and in response her initial annoyance slowly morphed into a racy smile. Joe felt his heart pound.

A split second later she was gone, running down the boardwalk, catching up with her pack.

For her the encounter was probably forgotten in an instant, but for Joe it was another such moment he carried with him for the next decade and a half.

* * *

Joe opened his eyes and winced.

It was morning. The sun was up—way up.

There was nothing remaining but a splitting headache. It ruled over everything else.

Well, almost everything.

In between the pain that came in sweeping waves, a wicked smile cut through the haze, roiling his brain in a steady simmer. For he’d neared the finish line, while in slumber, but he hadn’t yet crossed it. That alone set his skull and body temperature to its highest mark yet.

He leaned up in bed and breathed deeply. The dreamy images of Jennifer lingered in his mind too, like an impressionistic painting that had come to life. But sadly it seemed like she’d drifted even further away. Now she was a million miles downstream.

His face twisted in unease as he looked at his nightstand, and then down to the floor. He mouthed the words, where is it?

Shooting to his feet, he located his clothes strewn about the hardwood, and he rifled through the pockets of his jeans with a growing unease. He kept hoping to see the blue glass ball come rolling out, as he grasped onto it in relief.

But it was not there.

He searched madly, all about his apartment. But it was nowhere to be found.

Collapsing to the messy floor, he cursed himself—his idiocy, and his drunkenness, wondering how he could have possibly lost it. How could he have let that happen. Jennifer had given it to him, she’d transferred it to him, somehow—magically, miraculously. And he was too stupid and too drunk to hold onto it even for a full 24 hours.

He took a deep breath and reconsidered. Was it ever even real to begin with? Maybe he’d imagined it all along, like it had been part of his fantasy, like some kind of waking dream, or even an acid flashback. That he wasn’t totally sure must be evidence enough that he was off the deep end. He imagined this was the kind of thing that crazy people debated.

His cell phone was sitting on his nightstand, which was good—he hadn’t lost it. The battery had died some untold number of hours ago, which Joe thought was also good—had it been activated for the entirety of the night, it surely would have caused him more trouble than anything else. But it was a new day, and he’d survived, so he plugged the phone into its charger, and it lit up in its deactivated state. He’d actually look at it later, when he felt like dealing with it. He wasn’t brave enough yet.

“I got to get to fucking work,” he whispered to himself, while rubbing his temples. It would be painful, he knew, but dammit, that’s what people did. They went to work, sometimes even when they felt like shit. It would be a long day, but he had to get back to normal somehow. This would be a good, fitting start. Anyway, he thought it might actually be easier to fight through a day of work instead of sitting around his apartment all day with nothing but his cumbersome thoughts.

Joe stumbled into the shower, still walking clumsily, in a pained state that his last dream had left him in. He was in and out rapidly, and the water calmed him and woke him up a bit more. Afterward he dried off and dressed quickly into his office clothes. While straightening the knot in his tie, he took a deep breath and stared at his reflection in the mirror, unnerved to see a maniac looking back at him.

The timing seemed unnatural, as he heard the raven once more, hopping around out on the fire escape, its claws ringing on the metal, and it issued forth its ugly caw.

“Fuck you, bird,” he whispered. He took a few deep breaths, before briskly turning away.

Then he was out the door.

* * *

While standing on the platform waiting for the train, Joe saw a guy walk by him. He was younger, there was no doubt, and everything about him seemed overtly straight and tall—his stature, his posture, his confidence, and even his hair. He walked easily, never questioning where he was going or what he was doing. He had ear buds in, with a mic, and it looked like he was listening, laughing, and talking all at the same time, while also somehow not making any real noise at all. Joe glanced at him in bewilderment. It looked like he was getting all his morning calls in, while standing there on the train platform. Meanwhile Joe was doing his best just to stay upright—that was his big offering to his employer, and to the world at large. The guy’s clothes were flawless business wear, tailored and pressed perfectly, almost seeming too small for him, but still he could move easily in them. Surely it was a brand new style, off some very exclusive racks. Meanwhile Joe had been recycling the same shirt and khaki ensembles for years, never bothering to veer out of the comfort zone he’d established. Anyway, the thought of actual clothes shopping, even online, was torturous. Joe’s bothered eyes kept scanning the other dude, moving down to his footwear. His shoes were flat, pointed, and shiny, something Joe immediately thought looked stupid, but he was sure that every girl in the world would disagree with him vehemently about that. Joe’s own shoes, which he was once proud of, probably had at some point in the past few months or so slipped past the threshold from serviceable to ragged, and he hadn’t even really noticed, not until that exact second.

The guy barked out a laugh, like it was all just too easy for him. At the same time, a gust of wind blew across the platform, and Joe angled his body to meet it. The other guy didn’t even move though. He had prepared himself to be indestructible, and his perfectly coiffed hair was indeed windproof. It was yet another thing all the girls would surely swoon over, with long, quiet stares. Meanwhile, Joe’s own hair had never really cooperated with him, and every single time he went outside it seemed to be windy, like it was now, and each time he finally made it back inside whoever he ended up talking to was sure to give a quick glance up to his forehead and at whatever the hell was going on up there.

The train arrived and Joe very purposefully entered into a different car than the other guy. He took a seat as the doors shut and then the train began rumbling down the tracks. It wasn’t too crowded—he was late after all, and the morning rush had long since tailed off. He exhaled deeply, grateful for the idle moment, but then he noticed a young woman sitting across from him. Just by chance, her eyes met his, and Joe felt himself immediately lock up again. She looked familiar, he thought, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen her. There was enough there though, such that he felt his mind shifting gears, and then it fell quickly into another vortex, this one much different than the last. Fuckin’ hell, here we go, he thought bitterly, as she took over easily, and everything else around him fell into a dull drone.

She was younger than he was, in her early to mid-twenties, and she wore a simple black blouse and sleek, trendy jeans. She sat with her long legs stacked elegantly, one on top of the other, which was plainly magnificent, but what caught his eye most of all was the way she wore her hair, tied back but with long bangs that were really messy on her forehead, like she wasn’t totally put together but she didn’t really care, and it suggested she was flying by the seat of her pants just as much as he was. The final topper—when their eyes met again, it took her a good couple seconds to look away, and when she did, she blushed. Then she looked down at her phone as Joe felt a wave wash over him that was so powerful he almost saw stars.

That kicked things off. Joe forced himself to look away from her, lest he keep falling in any deeper. He glanced out the window instead, watching the noisy black nothingness of the subway tunnel pass by, trying to maintain calm. But it was a losing battle.

It was no surprise at all that Danielle arose smoothly into his thoughts then, with her wide smile, welcoming him. His mind had to go somewhere, while in such a state, and so it often went to her. During such moments, he felt like a drug addict, taking the feeling she gave him and injecting it straight into his body. God bless her, Joe thought, because she was one of the few that could recognize his plight, and better yet, she was even tickled by it. He did what he so often did, which was to replay their encounters over again in his mind, starting with that first night he and Danielle had really hit it off.

It had been a random Thursday night office happy hour. So innocent, and so glorious. He’d flirted with her a bit at work prior to that night, but it was always just in passing—it was that happy hour which really accelerated things. In retrospect it seemed the primary purpose of the event was to place him right together with her while also completely removing any and all of their inhibitions. It worked so well it almost felt like someone had set them up. Did his office want them to hook up? It sure seemed like it.

The happy hour came and went, and all along Joe was nicely surprised to see how Danielle, in all her youthful glory, kept ordering drinks with the same ease he did. He loved people that drank—plain and simple—and she was proving to be one of them. Gradually all their other coworkers dropped off, until it was just him and her remaining at the bar. They’d easily outlasted everyone else, even all the other young guns. Joe loved how that happened. It was unspoken, but so very real, and it placed just the two of them together, seated on barstools, quite close to one another, their flirting going into overdrive. He remembered being overly obsessed with the stud she wore on her tongue, and he was just unable to keep from noticing it all throughout the night. She smiled at him like she knew it. As it got later, the bar got louder, and she kept trying to dance, even though it wasn’t really that kind of a place. But she tried anyway, unconcerned what anyone thought of it, and Joe liked her for it. It was past 1 a.m. when they walked out onto the city street, stumbling and holding onto one another, both of them full of giggles. Joe insisted on walking her home, wanting to make sure she made it back safely, to which she said how gracious of you, sir. Standing at the door to her apartment, there was a moment of awkward silence, like they both realized simultaneously that they were coworkers and this would complicate things. Finally she broke it, saying, c’mon, Joe, don’t be such a pussy, with her smile wide, and her tongue stud flashing. Her comment jolted him like electricity, as he collapsed her against the door, and they made out drunkenly, but with their passions both so intense it was almost like a duel between them to see who could gain the upper hand. Then she broke it off quite suddenly, even harshly, saying that it was time to say good night. Joe felt his jaw fall open, and he simply did not reply, like he refused to accept that. She just flashed her sparkly smile again and said, sorry! while patting her hand a few times against the bulge of his hard-on. You’ll need to spend some money on me first, she said, still grinning, but then her smile vanished as she said the next part. Wait, you’re not one of my supervisors are you? Oh, this could be bad. She was both joking and serious at the same time, and Joe loved everything about her. The anticipation planted in that moment was so intense it made him almost delirious, but in a fabulous way, as he knew that a million texts would follow between the two of them, during all hours of the day and night; it would be a live broadcast, telling this story that he so loved, the only kind of story he ever really cared about, and at some point, if he played it just cool enough, his headboard would be banging rhythmically against the wall, with her sexed, satisfied wails accompanying it, in sync with it, encouraging it, even demanding it…

The subway car jerked roughly as it took a turn. Joe breathed deeply, and tugged at his collar. It was a bad idea to try to go into work, he realized. Truly, he felt impaired.

A minute or so later the train arrived to his stop. Joe took a deep breath again and then stood up gingerly, making subtle adjustments in order to remain civil. He’d let his thoughts go too far, he knew. He should have wrangled them in earlier.

As he filed out, the woman on the seat across from him looked up from her phone and right in his direction again. Her eyes seemed interested, even eager, almost like they asked him where are you going? The way she looked at him made him want to quit his job and everything else happening in his life just so he could go over and talk to her. Everything else in the world suddenly seemed stupid and unimportant compared to her.

What the hell is wrong with me, he asked himself, while walking off the train like a waffling child. Then the doors shut behind him, quickly and cruelly, and once the train sped off she was gone, probably forever.

Finally he made it to his building. There was the typical vanilla greetings followed by awkward silence with a coworker he only half-knew during the elevator ride up. The guy was more interested in his phone anyway. The elevator arrived, and Joe moved out of it first. He cut through the lobby, and then through a couple rows of cubicles until he got to his.

There was a pile of work waiting for him there, having built up since yesterday, in the form of a million emails and chats. But he was actually glad to see it. It would keep him occupied as he fought through the day, and as he negotiated with the headache that still lashed at him. He dove into it, but Danielle never strayed far from his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about how and when he’d run into her. It was only a matter of time, he knew. Each time someone passed by anywhere near his cubicle his head shot up automatically. But he didn’t see her yet.

It was already late afternoon when he went out for lunch, which was some bad Chinese food at a nearby food court. After scarfing it down, he returned to the office and coasted into the early evening actually feeling okay. Almost even normal.

It all came to a screeching halt.