Samson (Chapter One, Part Three)

       He had been to lunch with his sister, Mackenzie, something that was as much a part of his annual Venetian escapade as the actual trip. On the way to their favorite deli, as they walked by Macy's, Mackenzie stopped to direct a confused looking gaggle of camera-clicking, tennis shoe wearing, wide-eyed, obviously-not-from-New-York gawkers, uptown to Central Park. As she explained to them "25 blocks up 6th Street" really wasn't as far as it sounded, the very suit that stood animated before him now had been the topic of discussion of a young couple in front of the window that day. The man emphatically told the woman even though he knew she didn't think she liked blue, it was his favorite color and he was going to buy the suit for her. He went on to say she was going to wear it. Samson recalled thinking that if he ever found himself in a relationship with a woman for whom he picked out clothing, he wanted it to be with someone with whom he would share a similar taste. As he watched the conversation unfold before him in front of the storefront window that day, he studied the suit and visualized long dark hair falling like silk over the shoulder of the rich sapphire linen.
It was the same long dark hair that crowned the woman standing before him now.
       A seasoned traveler, Samson was certain he had never seen any woman wear linen on an international flight. He had been on the non-stop from New York; he knew she must have been on the same one since her bag was in the carousel marked "Delta flight 186", the flight he had taken. As Samson mentally ran through the faces of everyone he noticed at the departure gate, and on the plane, an olive skinned Italian man rushed to free the woman's bag from the conveyor belt that had been holding it hostage.
       She thanked him in what sounded like flawless Italian. In all his years of coming to Venice, Samson had only picked up a few words here and there, but he knew enough to understand that she was telling this man she could handle her bag from here. Not letting go of it, the man continued with his questions, most likely asking where she came from and where she was going. Samson didn't understand anything she was saying, but the look on both of their faces told him she was politely turning the man's advances down. A feeling of relief moved over him like sunshine. Samson knew all too well this man wasn't interested in getting to know the dark haired woman in the sapphire pant suit that had suddenly captured his own attention. He felt as if he had been watching a hunter shoot an arrow and miss a majestic wild animal. A hunter himself, Samson believed envy must be the reason he had been holding his breath and he exhaled when the man finally moved on to another target.