They drove the short three and a half blocks to Symphony's apartment. It stood in the middle of a short block. Short, considering the other long intersection it connected with at the end of the lane.  An historical artifact of architectural craftsmanship- ingenuity at its best. It had been studied repeatedly by the Civil Engineering department and other areas of study and concentrations at the University. Even the art studio drawing class sketched it. Her personal favorite. What they could not figure out was its construction. Supposedly the home builder ,like the stairs at a famous grotto of a church in a nearby New Mexico city, used no nails or screws. Most of the binding and hinging plus construction were done by hand. Some areas of the property had been modernized but the whole layout was like a ship with an observation deck; that is to say the  window in the apartment across the way  made everything appear right at hand, in your face ,close to the heavens and the stars. An astronomical wonder, you didn't need a telescope really but one would enhance and make everything that much more perfect. Another apartment in the small complex boasted a sunken living room. while two more had rooftop patios. All the apartments were connected  except the observatory. The whole structure formed a kinda horseshoe. Hans parked his jeep in the parking lot adjacent to the building.

                A shared laugh ended the conversation they were having.

                "Thanks for the lift, Symphony said, well, this is it".

                "I heard about this place, said Hans, looking over his dashboard".

                "You want to come in, you can sober up before driving home. It would kill me to hear that you were in a car accident on your way home. Three blocks is a lot different from a forty-five minute drive".

                "I'm fine, but yeah, sure, I could use a cup of coffee, he said, turning off the ignition".

                "No coffee but cola or herbal tea might do the trick".

Hans looked at Symphony, she wasn't showing any effects of the alcohol they had been drinking. In fact she seemed cold sober. Her hair was pressed flat from laying her head on the back of the passenger seat. She brushed through it now with manicured nails. Laying on her lap was her backpack. She rummaged through it looking for her apartment keys. The parking lot light caught the tattoo in the middle of her forehead. She rescued her keys from a knot of things. A mean looking exacto knife made its way back into her bag, releasing her keys. Her tattoo looked even bluer. It resembled a five pointed star. She had said that her parents never allowed her to get a tattoo so in one respect, she was rebeling. To her it was really a sign of her independence gained later than the average indiviual. He had asked her why in the middle of her forehead.

   Her response was ,"that way no one will mistake me for anyone else plus its one of a kind, no copies match. Any copies would not be the same because its really a cross in a star, not just a star, plus people think five pointed star and it has more points than that.  It's basically more knowing who I am and who they -, people are not and remembering where my real home is. I can't be used anymore. I can use myself but I am no pawn in the constant heirarchy and my faith is my own. Plus why get a tattoo this late in life and hide it away? Its meant to be seen and enjoyed. I am sick of the so called born again and supposed true Christians. It is all really just a front for con artists. I received an email once from a supposed bible study emotional psych group of a church once. Someone, there who felt I had insulted them in some way sent me an email in another language. At the time I had no language translation fonts plus I have received and transcribed things in other languages then tried to hit translate or another font to clear and it was just a mess no translation and it went dingbat. I figured , Is that a true Christian. fanatic yeah, but unless I am in Toronto at the Seminary using their books etc. It's all Hebrew or Arabaic to me and I translate those languages in another way. This semester I signed up for three languages all I have taken before. I dropped the classes, actually four, I forgot Navajo. I never took that before".

        She continued in a hurried fashion. Her words running over themselves. Hans listened to see if she took a breath. "If its not one its the other. Maybe in another life, or shock treatment, thrown into situations, talk or die. I wonder then how many languages I will speak. Plus, its easier if I don't know . There is always someone trying to find someone else especially after one of Lydias or Trevas parties..." He wondered if she knew he did not know either a Lydia nor a Treva, and from her description of them, he did not want to. He watched her lips move around each word as her tongue replenished her lips in between her occasional pointed subject referencing accentuated by concentrated drags from her cigarette. She continued her impassioned jabs at false religious stereotypes.Forget that he had only asked her what her tattoo meant. " I took the science of languages Linguistics in High School and then at another University that's good enough and there is software if I need any help or conversation. I can  always ask someone, without getting into religious fervor. They preach in hollow voices as the Indians say. They are heartless. Their faith does not touch their eyes their soul. The lights in peoples eyes I see nowadays are mechanical adjustments of laser surgeries".

          Her eyes were laughing and twinkling with a sulty exotic air. A smile made its way to the corners of her mouth. She blew cigarette smoke through lips moist from verbal exursion out the car window. Cradling the cigarette in between manicured nails.  Carefully flicking the ash so that it landed away from the jeep, her eyes traced the line of his face resting briefly on his lips. A refreshing smile for one so serious. She was older than him but younger somehow,he thought. Not hard and definately not punk or metal. Not fashion to stereotype, but definately Bohemian. If there were any left, she would be the one. He wondered what the inside of her apartment looked like. Yeah, they were definately going to sleep together. His hand pressed on the car door release. She had already shut and locked the passengers side and was now standing in the middle of the parking lot looking up at the night sky and waiting. Looking and waiting for him. Shimmered rays of the passing moonlight shown from her face and hair. Not moonlight but twilight light, or could it have been moonlight. An aged singer talks of shimmering. He looked up into the night sky as well. Paula Cole, yeah, that's that singers name. Paula Cole had nothing on Symphony, though. Two totally different individuals.  The moon glowed round but not obstrusive. A warming touch to set what, the mood, he still wasn't sure yet. Sure of her, yeah, he was sure of her wanting him as much as he wanted her.  There was still the problem of Eric and Gwen. He would have to deal with them tomorrow.

            "Everything, okay", Symphony's voice broke his train of thought. Her head was still tilted towards the night sky. She glanced in his direction. Studying him. He walked over to the passenger side of the car and leaned against the door. He shifted his weight fingering the wheel of the jeep door handle---- annoying. He reached out his hand towards her. She placed her hand squarely in his. His fingers circle around hers. Hans pulled Symphony within his arms. They both leaned up against the jeep. She leaned her head on his chest. Her gaze rested on the flickering star hiding in amd out of the night sky. Hans followed her gaze.

            " I have been looking for that star all night", Symphony said.

             Symphony thought about the last time she was in the parking lot. Not a similar situation. Acquaintances watching solitary stars. Joined by another then another, yet still  looking up into the night sky for a familiar friend. She had stood in the parking lot with Loki and his father.  She giggled to herself. Hans pulled her closer. "You didn't answer my question", Hans said. "Don't you want to run away, she heard a little boy's voice say. "Escape", she heard his father's voice,whisper. 

         "Strange", Symphony thought shivering. "You cold or something", ask Hans holding her tighter. He shifted his arms opening pulling her deeper within cluster of muscles.

         It seemed as if, he were holding her tighter. Symphony continued with her thoughts resting her head deeper within the folds of his linen shirt. She had kissed Loki's Dad making his son laugh. She had felt a shock in that brief momentarily extended instance; existence.  Within in his mind, she had seen a bloody battle field a man on a horse and a warrior down, shields and swords scattered, fallen, bloody and held. Stuff you see in movies right, but not so she had not really seen into his eyes. They were closed opening briefly. The kiss was long enough not like the overly used reference of the painting, which today has taken on rather more than alternative genres. It rated as one of the most powerful kisses she had ever experienced.  Loki's Dad was into piercing and other stuff . No cross dressing cowardice living three doors down there. No excuses , either. One of her professors acted as if she were going to do battle with her because of him. The Fiction Writing professor instead failed Symphony. Symphony made a mental note about checking into getting her grade changed. She didn't know what the womans problem, attitude was about, but it had ruined the first eat in a restaurant and have the guy pay for whole meal date that she had not been on in a long time.

      "You still didn't answer my question,plus its getting chilly out here. Symphony!?". Hans, gentle, hello remember me made .Symphony laughed. She looked into Hans eyes. "The reason I was looking up into the sky was because of ..She didn't finish. Instead, Hans finished for her.

         "....that star shining right over there", Hans pointed. Symphony looked at him. Hans continued,"... its the watcher it follows your ,you especially, he said, lingering his index finger on the middle of her forehead tracing briefly her tattoo. "Your every move, he continued, and then it moves about three stars and then back. Plus, its not the Northern star but it shines bright".

        " I'll take that as a compliment", Symphony said and brushed her lips against Hans own. Symphony shifted her weight so that she stood directly in front of Hans..