Counting Crows

A long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember the last thing that you said as you were leaven'
Now the days go by so fast

He carefully folded the creases from each napkin; only when every single dish on the table stood in serene silence did he sit down at its far end, his hand placidly turned onto his lap.

Each fork sat at their corrective ends, pointing upward, neatly insistent and beckoning for food. But he would not eat.

Steven Regal was a lonely man, and he would remain that way for the foreseeable future.

And it's one more day up in the canyons
And it's one more night in Hollywood
If you think that I could be forgiven...I wish you would
The smell of hospitals in winter
And the feeling that it's all a lot of oysters, but no pearls

He had been left so easily behind; death has a way of doing that. Leaves you without a sense of control, without true purpose. Though illness robs more; leaves you without a sense of purpose. Altogether, the fact of his loneliness was inescapable.

Did he need to add the fact of his nose; the unchangeable ugliness made of his face after the accident. It had been his fault that the car crashed; his foot on the gas peddle, decapitating his lover....

All at once you look across a crowded room
To see the way that light attaches to a girl
And it's one more day up in the canyons
And it's one more night in Hollywood
If you think you might come to California...I think you should

Across the canyon, Stephanie sat brooding, her own dark soul threatening to eat up everything that was pure and good in her life.

Tylene was gone, would not be coming back; was somewhere in Benedict with another woman, wrapping her legs around someone sweeter, hotter than Stephanie could manage to be.

It killed her; like chewing glass, each winter day swept through her, bringing torrents of pain.

Drove up to Hillside Manor sometime after two a.m.
And talked a little while about the year
I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower,
Makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her

She had to get away; to run someplace where she would be needed, appreciated, adored. Into the car, she threw herself; drove up the cliffs, past the noveau riche palaces of Brentwood; running for her life, as fast as she could, away from the pain being waved over her eyes daily.

Something made her pull to a stop in front of the house that abutted the end of the street; she noticed it because of its lack of pretense; no forced Holiday cheer; no strings of lights taunting her with her imperfections.

She climbed out of the car and walked straight to the front door, knocking firmly on the door until it finally opened.

And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell my myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass

Steven Regal stood at the door, truly looking at the vibrant young woman who stood at his threshold with an expression of determination.

"I'm sorry," She said, almost abashedly, "I might have the wrong house..."

Something about her made him pause; she hadn't shuddered away at the sight of his scars, "No, Madame," He said bravely, "That is, I would be pleased to have your company..."

And it's one more day up in the canyon
And it's one more night in Hollywood

He allowed her into his parlor; to his dining room, where the dinner sat uneaten. William pulled out her chair, seated her, and with a loving touch, began to divide the turkey between them..

It's been so long since I've seen the ocean...I guess I should

And, for the first time in years, snow began to fall in Hollywood.


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