She notices the slip of paper as soon as she enters the room. It is not a big room, but she likes order. That bit of paper was not there when she left the room. She'd put everything back in place after she was in any one place. It just set the universe right for her, in a way.
She goes and picks up the scrap of paper and reads.
She reads the words carefully, as if she doesn't understand the message, but she does. In her mind, she does, although she's never seen such a message before. The girls at school used to pass such messages to one another or even worse, from the boys. But they never passed one to her and Julia never minded. It was a filthy message, leading into temptation and what would her mother have to say about that?
She took it upon herself to chastise the girls for doing the work of Satan and being so...so ungodly. But that was then, when she was a child, and this is now.
Now, there is no one in the room to chastise, to reproach for dirtying the room or for being ungodly. It's just Julia and the paper.
'Meet me at the Boulevard Cafe, at 3:30 tomorrow. Please. I'd love to see you.'
She knows it is the writing of a boy. Only a boy would have such a strange thought, so as to pass her a sly note like this. But it's not from a boy, she reminds herself, it must be from a man. Yes. But what man?
She's never known any man. There's Mr Potts, who does the cleaning, but he's so old and dainty. Even if he wanted to leave her a message, he wouldn't leave it on the floor, it would go against everything he stood for. But there's no –
But there is. The young architect who moved into her mother's attic three weeks ago. Julia only needed a small part of the house, so she started renting it out after her mother died. Only to decent people, of course, and the architect boy had seemed decent enough, with his combed-back hair and the pencil behind his ear.
There had been the time when he'd dashed down the stairs, wearing only a pair of shorts, giving her a huge smile as he went. But Julia had averted her eyes just in time and had put it down to his being so young. But he wasn't that young, or rather, she wasn't that old.
He must be in his late twenties, now that she thought about it, just like her. Julia had always felt so old and drained. Her mother used to say the word of God does that to people, it makes them old and wise.
But as Julia stood, staring at the scrap of paper, she wasn't so sure...
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