avid has been in the kitchen for two minutes.  He discovered the back door open and quietly closed it.  He locked it before he went to bed, so he knows I’ve been here.  Knows I might still be here.  I left a Bel Largo chardonnay chilling in the refrigerator.  That’s the wine we shared on our first date.

In a moment David will grab the kitchen phone on the counter and dial 911. A land line will give the dispatcher his location.  That could be useful if he became . . . incapacitated. I’m sure he’ll want to mention the restraining order.

David will be disappointed when he doesn’t get a dial tone.  That’s when he will reach for his Blackberry Storm.  Pity it isn’t by the sink where he left it charging.

At that point it will be fight or flight.  Should he run to his ex-wife’s apartment, just down the block?  Sharon will call the police, but by the time the squad car gets here, I’ll be gone.  I will slip out the basement sliding glass doors, into the back yard, through the marsh, across the creek to the woods, down the tree line back to my car on County Road C.  There is no hurry.  Police response time for this neighborhood is twenty minutes.

In twenty minutes I will be back at my condo dressing for work.  Everything is laid out on the dressing table—the red Donna Karan jersey dress with black jacket, black hose, and sensible heels.

When David arrives at work, I will be there. He’s in Internal Audit.  Third floor.  My office is two doors down and around the corner.  Logistics.

But maybe David will decide to fight.  Maybe he’s had enough.  He’ll go to the oak butcher block beside the back door.  That’s where he keeps his Kai Shun knives.  He’ll select a large knife, the chef’s knife.  An eight-inch blade.  That will be a mistake.

A small knife, five inches or less—thin, easily maneuverable in close fighting—is a better choice.  With a paring knife, he might stand a chance against my Ka-Bar Becker carbon steel blade, but I doubt it.

I don’t want to cut him, but he hasn’t given me much choice.  Ironic, isn’t it?  There is such a fine line between courtship and stalking.