Robin chuckled to himself as he remembered his plan; he'd almost forgotten it for a few minutes there. He'd left the painting in his studio in plain sight: heck, you could even see it from the roof of the Carnival Tower if you wanted to. Of course, she hadn't known that. She probably thought she'd stolen it.
They had met on a park bench on a sunny Saturday afternoon, and just when neither of them had felt the day could get any better, it did.
And after that, of course, there was the usual exchange of phone numbers and the phone calls that went long into the starry nights, and secret meeting places, too. The rocky patch near the creek in the forest was their favourite. After Jason finished art school and Rita, her degree in English Literature, they would spend a large part of their days together, him painting, and her conjuring a story out of what she saw and believed.
Robin sighed. Jason and Rita--although they were characters in a story--had found happiness in each other, a kind of happiness he would, possibly, never find, and he didn't know if it--
That's it, he thought, and stopped himself.
To hell with this 'what if she doesn't love me' nonsense! If she does, excellent, and if she doesn't, I can always move on. No big deal.
He carefully placed the diary back on the table, wrote out a note for Laura, and grabbed his bike and sped off to the candy store.