+TYPED OUT-

THE MIDDLE PART

New Year was a little later, for Monday. She had drunk at the publishing house before going home. She liked her new Year's Eve to be quiet. The woman welcomed the year in front of her computer screen multiple times while she aspired to become a published author.

Monday decided to change the schedule by watching romantic comedies she loved. She began with About time, followed by love Actually and Man Up with Simon Pegg. She wasn't in the mood to write romance, but she was relieved to know her heart still skipped when watching the timeless love movies.

The clock struck midnight with, Monday snoring on the sofa. Luces' moans woke her up at 2 AM.

"Wha-what-what's all this noise?" She stuttered.

"Monday, I can't go to work tomorrow," Luce said as she slid to the side of the sofa.

"Why? What happened?" Monday asked.

"Mistletoe."

"Mistletoe," Monday repeated.

"Mistle-toe," Luce said again; she was drunk. Monday shoved her; she wasn't in the mood for guess what games.

" Ha, What is wrong with you? What's with this Mistletoe business? Snap out of it," Monday said and sneered.

"I kissed him."

"Who?"

"Watkins, I kissed dr. Watkins, my boss. I might as well resign."

Monday shook her head in disapproval and kissed her teeth at what she estimated being nonsense, "Oh, stop exaggerating. The guy has the hots for you. What's the problem?"

Luce let out a witches' chuckle, " the huts for Moi? Nah, never. No, it was just a kiss, a very random passionate kiss under the Mistletoe. "

Monday rolled her eyes clockwise, "hmm, that's what I thought when I slept with Kenneth. Anyway, Happy New Year, babes."

"Where are you going?" Luce said when she saw Monday get up.

"To sleep in my bed."

"But Monday."

"Don't but Monday me. You don't need any advice; just don't mess up like I did, okay."

"Please stop speaking as if Watkins and I are going to develop your next book. I told you he's not my type."

"Luce, shut up. You like him too. Qui aime bien chatie bien [spare the rod and spoil a child]." With these words, Monday went to her bedroom.

Two weeks later, Kenneth was on standby for another talk. His popularity wasn't diminishing; on the contrary, he reeled in more adepts of his methods.

Mathilda had made an interesting analogy: book fairs were the writers' campaign.

Indeed writers promoted their books like politicians during these events. Kenneth was part of the privileged few who even got an audience.

"Hi, everyone; I hope you're enjoying your visit and that you're ready to bear with my voice for the next thirty minutes," the man said as he paced across the stage. "ㅡAlright, I imagine and hope many of you have read happy alone and Schedule love."

The man stopped in the middle of the stage. To not change a habit, he wore burgundy pants, a forest green shirt, and sneakers. "ㅡFor those who haven't, it's one book divided into two distinct parts. The first half tells you how to find happiness and how to keep it. While the other gives you tips on how to schedule your ultimate love story," Kenneth said while wiggling his eyebrows.

"Between the two parts, there's a blank space, a banal empty page. It's that blank space I want to talk about today." the man resumed his steps, "let me explain; ㅡ when I wrote the book, it was either white or black for me. People were either made to be alone or with somebody, but the middle part wasn't a grey or neutral zone. The middle part is the place where one switches. I realized that someone happy alone could suddenly want to be with someone and vice versa. How did I realize it? Well, it happened to me," Kenneth said and pointed at himself, " ㅡI convinced myself I couldn't be happier than by myself. Reflecting and working on my improvement was already enough. I didn't want the hassle until," Kenneth paused, "I met someone," he stopped again and looked down the central aisle; there was no Monday.

He pursued, "when I met that person, I did all the things I said never to do. I felt all the things I told never existed. I fell in love for the first time. How did I know I was in love? Because I began to change my checklist. I'd notice something that usually turned me off and shrug because I liked her more than I was willing to admit. Unfortunately, I was unprepared for my love story. I didn't do the warm-up, and guess what? I failed.

"I lost that person because of my incapacity to adapt and adjust. I believed I had the time to validate the checkpoints I set in my mind and occulted her involvement. So in that middle part, there should be an explanation saying if you cross the line and decide to be with someone, you have to accept to give the keys to your heart's garage and say, I trust you with this; please don't hurt me. I was too scared by the probability of being hurt by that person, so afraid in my forty-something-year-old man's shoes that at the first incident, I fled faster than an Olympic bobsleigh," Kenneth said while nodding.

The crowd laughed; he waited for the sound to die before resuming, " if you ask me what you should retain today. I'd tell you to keep the middle part. You should remember that most of us will cross the part several times and do the back and forth. Also, you must be conscious that your greatest fears will manifest themselves in the middle part. Doubts will plague you, just like those who decide to break away from relationships. I only know one person who voluntarily chose to live without a partner and who is sincerely happy. Deception and lassitude are what push most people to desire solitude. Ask yourself why you want to be on either side and take accountability for your choice."

Kenneth stopped as a familiar face appeared; he concluded, "don't let fear guide you. Please don't make my mistake. Your partner isn't the latest artwork you can hang and say you sit there. Communicate, and share what's eating you. You might discover you're on the same wavelength."

"Yea did a good job, Kenneth," Mathilda said when he stepped down. People appreciated and related to life experiences. Kenneth's story gave strength and body to his words, but it broke the image of this unattainable man way up there in the clouds.

"Thank you, Mathilda, can you and Bradley answer the journalists? I need to see someone."

"Sure."

Kenneth left them. He took out his phone and looked for the booths' emplacement. Five minutes later, he stood facing Ben.

"Hi, Mr. Mosley."

"Hi, Ben. How are you?"

"Good, as you can see."

The tone was exceptionally cordial, and Kenneth guessed Ben was aware of what happened.

Ben observed how Kenneth looked around before saying, "she isn't here."

"Pardon."

"Monday, she isn't here."

"Oh, ah, yeah, I can see that," Kenneth said as he swiped a hand at the back of his head. "So you're published now?" He added.

"Yes."

Kenneth smiled, "great; I wish you a lot of success."

A few seconds of silence rolled past.

"I appreciated what you said earlier. I'm sure Monday would have loved to hear something along those lines."

"I wish I could tell her, but ㅡI guess it won't be today," Kenneth turned away and took a step when he heard.

"She'll be in Berlin at the Buchmesse."

Monday finished by opening up about her story with Kenneth the day they ate in her favorite restaurant. Ben understood her story with the man was one of the shortest and most intense. Love blossomed in that brief lapse of time, but neither the writer nor Kenneth managed to grasp the emotion.

"I can't explain how, Ben. Monday had explained. It was as though every emotion was multiplied by ten, see a thousand. Deep down, it felt so right, as though he was the one, and I didn't even really know him. Does it make sense?"

Matters of the heart were complicated no matter the age and experiences. Ben's relationship with Lennon attested to it. Even a year later, the men actively worked on the foundations of their idle they wished healthy. Love was indeed about forgiving, perhaps not forgetting but definitely about second chances.

Ben gave Kenneth a stepping stone and hoped the man would make it to the other side of the river without sinking in the middle part.