Eleanor and Gottfried

A tall man stood outside a bookstore, frowning vacantly at the windows. What on Earth was this modern world coming to? There were pictures of that dumb young man, JayBee or whatever the girls were calling him, on display--where were the books?!

His veins would be boiling had they been filled with blood. The modern world no longer understood art; infinitely saddening for one who had lived through some of the most creative periods in human history.

He scoffed aloud again and adjusted his scarf.

"You don't like him either?" Asked a very tall woman. She was barely taller than the man, as she stood at about 6''3' without her heels, while with them she stood at nearly 6''5'. She adjusted her red scarf, which matched her very red lips.

"It's unfortunate that he is idolozed these days. I miss great musical artists and fine artists. Da Vinci, Van Gogh....among others. Bach, Mozart."

She giggled.

"Not Lady GaGa or cartoonists."

"Exactly!!" He shouted loudly, his German accent faint but noticeable. "Finally, someone gets it! This little boy has no talent--Beethoven had more talent in his pinky at is age."

"Precisely!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "I like you! My name is Eleanor."

"That's nice," he said, sticking his hands into the pockets of his expensive pants. "Damn, what is this world coming to?"

She frowned slightly. Eleanor reapplied her bright red lipstick.

"Are you German or Austrian, perhaps?" she asked, putting her lipstick back into her purse.

"Ja," he replied, still glaring at the display. "That's why I understand true art. You Americans have no real history--you just want thing fast and convenient, never artistic. No offense."

"I am Italian born, actually," she replied, smiling at him. "My mother was French. I lived in Italy for much of my childhood. It was gorgeous there. I'd spend day after day in the art museums."

"How nice for you," he said, turning to glare at her. "Are you trying to imply you know more than me?"

"What?" she asked, shocked. "Of course not. I was simply saying that it must have been wonderful to have been born into the time at which those paintings and the like were made."

"Yes, of course. What do you want, then? If you want money, I have none." He looked her up and down, and then added, "I also don't wish to buy anything from you, now or later."

"I simply overheard you," she replied, shrugging. "I'm sorry if I bothered you. I'll leave you alone, then."

"...That's it?" he wondered aloud, furrowing his brow. "That's...that's all you wanted?"

"Yes," she replied, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Well, I thought you'd press more," he admitted. "Try to get me to admit I knew a composer, or accidentally recite a line from a vampire novella, or something. You know how women are nowadays--no class."

"Goodness, no," she replied, feigning shock. "Why would I do that? That seems invasive and quite frankly, weird."

Actually, Eleanor had already tried that many times before and it really hadn't worked. She was, however, surprised that this tactic had worked so well.

"So what do you want?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "Come on, surely you didn't just overhear."

She smiled at him.

"Well, to be honest I have interest in many classical things. I was just hoping you had the same interest. Art and music and all that."

"...Well, I suppose I do," he said, shrugging. "Are you trying to ask me out?"

She wrinkled her nose cutely.

"Maybe," she replied, flashing him a while. "Alright, yes. If you'd like to go out with me, I'd love to perhaps go out for coffee or to a museum."

"Why not both?" he asked, shrugging. "We're not peasants, are we? Now, when would you like to meet, young lady?"

"I'm free on Friday nights and weekends," she replied, smiling at him. "This weekend or next. Right now, or anytime, really. I keep my weekends free on purpose."

"This Friday is fine," he said, nodding to himself. "I think I had only planned to walk through the streets and scoff at the ill-mannered and badly-dressed.

"You keep your weekends free for a reason, you say?" he wondered aloud. He leaned closer to get a better look at her face. "What reason might that be?"

"Friday it is," she replied, clapping her hands together. He long, manicured nails clanked against one another, adorned with tiny decorations.

"I keep my weekends free because I enjoy showing off my fashion," Eleanor laughed, scrunching up her nose. "I make most of my clothes with the spare money I have."

"So, is that all?" he asked, toying with his scarf. "It's not Friday yet, so I suppose we should...part. I am a very busy man."