Faux Noir: Interruption

“Maryanne’s” slender wrist was in her “husband’s” grip. I strode back to her table. I pulled his hand away from her wrist, shoved the table out of the way, and pushed his chair back. The chair slid, caught on something and tipped backward.

[tweedlesquirge] “Commander Riker to the bridge.”

“Duty calls, Deanna. Computer… save program.”

The Topaz and its patrons and staff dissipated as the holodeck matter was reclaimed. Deanna’s hair returned to its normal brunette. She offered her hand and I helped her stand.

“You look stunning in that gown.”

She looked gorgeous in anything. Or nothing at all. There were times when I kicked myself for sacrificing our relationship for my career. This was one of them.

“Thanks, Will. Green isn’t really my color but it worked with the red hair. Where did you find this program? It’s better than the Captain’s Dixon Hill stories. The characters seem more autonomous, less predictable.”

“It’s a 21st century piece from an obscure corner of something called the Internet.”

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