All the Lonely People - By Angela
Prologue
I can hear the music, the laughter and the tinkling of fine china floating throughout the house. It's a party, the first one I've been to in quite a while. And it's in my house. My new house that is, in Boston. There's a sinking feeling in my stomach; I'm nervous as usual. You'd think I'd get used to meeting new people seeing that I have a lifetime of experience, but somehow, it's never that easy. I look at my reflection in the mirror one last time. Every strand of my hair is in its place. My new dress is perfect and all my jewelry is sparkling. I smile slightly, admiring the dress. It is truly beautiful, made out of the finest champagne colored silk. It was unthinkably expensive, imported from France. I know it's supposed to make me feel better about moving. I suppose it helps a little. Still, a dress will never be able to replace a person. I sigh, and turn away from the mirror, satisfied with my appearance. Taking a deep breath I stroll down the hallway and carefully descend the grand spiraling staircase to the ballroom.
I slowly glide my gloved hand along the railing. With each step, I feel dread pooling in my stomach. The room feels hot and hazy and it seems like everyone is staring at me. I wish...I wish that Jack were here. I imagine him magically appearing at the bottom of the stairs and whisking my away, back to New York. But that's not how things work. Turning my thoughts back to the present, I plaster a smile on my face and begin scanning the room.
"You must be Ms. DeLanci!" I nod automatically, catching myself before I make a pained face. A young man is standing in front of me, grinning like a complete fool. He has straw blond hair, slicked back and he's wearing a tuxedo. But then so is every male in the room. I groan inwardly. How do they find me?
"It's a pleasure to meet you." He practically purrs, the way he says it. I think I'm going to be sick. He takes my hand and bends down to kiss it. I really, really want to snatch it away, knowing that only a thin layer of fabric separates my hand from his slimy lips.
"My name is Darrel Hayward." Yahoo. Let go of my hand. Now.
"It's a pleasure to meet you!" I gush, my manners clicking into auto-pilot. Someone save me. My gaze flicks away from Darrel and begins to drift over the room. I'm vaguely aware of Darrel leading me around the room, babbling something about meeting his friends. I wonder if Jack has sold all of his newspapers yet. He's probably in the Lodging House right now, playing cards with his friends...
