Monica closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath before reaching down and grabbing her half of the apple. It felt ceremonious like it meant something. Like every bite was a declaration that things were changing. When she finished, she set the core down gently and met Ryan’s eyes.

He asked softly “so… what was your wish?
Her smile faltered, but only for a second. “To be strong enough to break up with my boyfriendshe said, voice quivering just enough to reveal the bruise behind the words.

Ryan didn’t press. He just nodded, like he already knew.

“You sure?he asked, careful with his tone.

Monica looked down at the black marble table between them, at the way the wine glass caught the glow of the lamplight, at the half eaten apple that somehow still felt full of meaning. She took a breath, then another. And when she looked up again, her eyes were no longer uncertain.

“I am now.
Ryan smiled and pulled a small leather notebook from his jacket. He clicked his pen and held it to a fresh page.

“Then maybe it’s time for a little theaterhe said. “You up for that?
Her brow rose. “What kind of theater?
“The kind that ends with poetic justice and no fingerprints.His voice dipped into a conspiratorial murmur as he angled the notepad toward her.

She leaned in, curious now, the corners of her lips twitching toward a grin. He began to sketch out a stick figure of a bartender carrying drinks, timing cues which seemed absurdly simple on the surface, but with the bones of something deliciously operatic.

“This is madnessshe whispered.

“Maybe... But it’s clean. Precise. If we time it right… no one gets blamed. And you walk away having said what needed to be said to both Candy and to your boyfriend. I mean ex-boyfriend.
Her grin finally broke free, for once tonight she was feeling less like a victim and more like Monica.

NOTES:---------------
One more scene down... albeit simple, it moves the story along, stick figure and all.