Example of a Long Time No See Romance Scene

The gallery was crowded. White walls, expensive wine, art that required explanation. She was there because her roommate had dragged her. He was there because his name was on one of the paintings. She didn't know that yet. She was standing in front of a large canvas — blues and greys, a horizon line that might have been ocean or might have been sky — when a voice behind her said, "You're frowning at my painting." She turned. The world tilted. "Marcus?" "Delilah." Seven years. Seven years since the summer they spent in that rented house in Lisbon, painting on the balcony and sleeping on the floor and breaking each other's hearts so thoroughly that she'd moved to a different city just to stop seeing him in coffee shops. He looked like a painting himself — older, sharper, a streak of grey at his temple that he'd earned. His hands were still paint-stained. Some things didn't change. "You paint now," she said. Stupid. Obviously he painted now. They were in his gallery. "You left Lisbon." "You stopped calling." "You asked me to stop calling." "I didn't mean it." The words hung between them, seven years too late and exactly on time. Someone nearby clinked a glass. A woman in a red dress laughed at nothing. "This one's about you," he said, nodding at the canvas she'd been frowning at. "The horizon series. They're all about you." "That's a terrible thing to tell someone in public." "I've been waiting seven years to tell someone in public." She looked at the painting again. The blues were the color of the Lisbon sky at dusk. The greys were the color of the morning she left. "Buy me a drink," she said. "A real one. Not this gallery wine." "I know a place." "You always knew a place." They left his own opening. No one noticed. Or maybe everyone noticed and no one was surprised.

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