Norwood Sophist

Imagine being a minor spanish businessman; maybe you have a small chain of successful auto repair centers, or inherited a small hotel in Mallorca that does bustling but inconsistent seasonal business with British tourists… sometime in the late 00s you have an brief affair with some girl, anonymous but beautiful, who discreetly and tastefully advertised online exactly what she was. You take her on a quiet vacation to get away from the monotony of your daily life, you use her for what she is, and she uses you; you get your money’s worth (and despite everything, you always felt she was worth it!), and you both develop an easy and comfortable relationship, an Understanding. Afterwards you buy her some handbags and pay her rent for a couple months before it fizzles out; maybe your wife starts getting suspicious and you have to cut her off, or perhaps she just stops returning your calls. Eight years later you see her on a billboard, for a huge American film… the shock! You’re older now, the years haven’t been kind, but your heart pumps away to exactly the same place it always did whenever you saw her, in the flesh… you have an aneurism right there on the street, you drop dead! Your kids clean up the messy detritus of your life, try to organize the badly run business, sort out the estate and bicker over the half planned out will… your daughter finds some saucy old polaroids stashed in a drawer of your desk at work; in fit of self righteous disgust, she throws them out without taking a second look, never recognizing what she’s found, totally uninterested in the majestic accomplishment you somehow achieved.