March 10, 2004
He felt her contemptuous glance across the entire crowded length of Grand Central Station's main terminal. Somehow it cut through the swarm of human bodies and the echoing cacophony of feet and voices that reverberated from the arched ceiling high above. There was an indefinite tingling in the back of his skull, he turned around – and her cobalt eyes slashed across him with a casual savagery. For a timeless second everyone else ceased to exist. The hurrying brokers, bedraggled mothers with their spoiled toddlers, mustachioed foreigners and attaché clutching interns: all were unmade, and there was only himself and her.