New Fiction: “Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project.
From the magazine’s Decameron Project. New fiction: “Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. New fiction: “Everyone had left the city — except for the woman on the 14th floor.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. But I’m not letting myself be fooled.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. He just keeps pummeling.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “He didn’t like to talk about his brother much in those days. By New Fiction: “Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “Two people in what looked like spacesuits had wheeled him inside.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “Dogs, big or small, mongrel or pedigree, had the run of the town.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. | not letting myself be fooled.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “Two people in what looked like spacesuits had wheeled him inside.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “Dogs, big or small, mongrel or pedigree, had the run of the town.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “No complications, that was how Chrissy thought of clients like them. New fiction: “Babies get fevers. By New fiction: “At night, I’d stare at my wife’s back in the dim light of the bedroom, and I’d see a ridge too high to climb.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. New fiction: “One of the things my dad sent me was 32 rolls of toilet paper.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. | Decameron Project. New fiction: “Everyone had left the city — except for the woman on the 14th floor.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “A hundred twenty days have passed since someone last touched you.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. I wanted to believe him.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. Between them lay a gentle hatred.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “Two people in what looked like spacesuits had wheeled him inside.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. But I’m not letting myself be fooled.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “He didn’t like to talk about his brother much in those days. By New fiction: “Although everyone is behind on everything, they feel sure that they are a little more behind than everyone else.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. Yet they all came with some complications.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. | out over nothing but empty streets.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By Esi Edugyan New fiction: “The consular officers keep telling me I should be patient, I will have better luck next time.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. New fiction: “Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “No complications, that was how Chrissy thought of clients like them. By New fiction: “At night, I’d stare at my wife’s back in the dim light of the bedroom, and I’d see a ridge too high to climb.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By Rivka Galchen New fiction: “‘You’re addicted to being awkward,’ his mother said to him that afternoon. By Kamila Shamsie New fiction: “Everyone had left the city — except for the woman on the 14th floor.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. Between them lay a gentle hatred.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. Between them lay a gentle hatred.” From the magazine’s | to a screeching halt, and so did your good feelings about it being a worthy endeavor.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. New fiction: “Everyone had left the city — except for the woman on the 14th floor.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. “What the hell is that?” Ellie said. By Rivers Solomon New fiction: “No complications, that was how Chrissy thought of clients like them. | me. Or maybe because Mavi and I hadn’t touched each other since Michele’s arrival. ‘Nothing’s ever your fault.’” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “She used to tell me, ‘If he is going to imagine something, let him imagine his home country.’” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. I wanted to believe him.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “‘You’re addicted to being awkward,’ his mother said to him that afternoon. New fiction: “Everyone had left the city — except for the woman on the 14th floor.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “No complications, that was how Chrissy thought of clients like them. By New fiction: “‘First, I have to ask you: How attached are you to your memories?’” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. New fiction: “Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project.
New Fiction: “Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project.
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The Decameron Project
Rachel Kushner: ‘The Girl with the Big Red Suitcase,’ a Short Story
ByRachel KushnerJuly 7, 2020
The Decameron Project
New Fiction
In that old tale by Poe, they locked out the commoners and locked in the plague, the uninvited guest to their costume ball. Their mistake is a lesson for the reader only, since the highborn fools in the story all die. I’ve read the tale, taken the lesson. And yet, here I am in a walled castle and with a small group of people I might describe, if pressed, as dissolute snobs.
This was an accident. I got here well before refrigerated trucks idled outside the municipal morgue, down the road. When I arrived in this country, life remained fairly normal. The virus was not close. I “felt sorry” for the people of Wuhan and continued with my own plans, as an author doing frivolous author-y things, like visiting a castle where I’d been invited for a week’s stay, alongside people whose sole commonality was to pretend these kinds of bizarre sinecures are normal. I’d brought young Alex, who inspires wrestling matches among dowagers competing to have him at their brunch. His beauty is of a dissident, orphaned hue. Or darker. He looks, in fact, a lot like Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, but I promise he has bombed nothing except a few social occasions to which he arrived unfashionably late.
We were waiting it out, this mess that no person on Earth will escape. At first, to cozen our own distress, Alex and I treated our castlemates as bad objects of amusement. We poked fun at the Charlemagne biographer and the pajamalike “house master’s” robe he wore to dinner, his obsession with the Duke of Wellington, with dueling, with all manner of what Alex summarized as post-Napoleonic torpor. We derided the journalist who believed anyone left of center was on Putin’s payroll, this mythic payroll, so insidious we almost wondered if we were on it ourselves. And we laughed at the Norwegian author for the fact that he was, we were told, the most important author in Scandinavia, and yet, unlike all other Scandinavians, this extremely important and famous man didn’t speak even a single word of English. He gathered with the rest of us but contributed only an air of dazed elsewhereness, seemingly unconcerned with the arch Anglo-banter that ricocheted around him. We never laughed at his wife, who translated for him, as some women do even for men who speak the language. She shared none of her own thoughts, this handsome woman with an indeterminate European accent, and instead sat on the terrace, smoking and silently watching the rest of us cheapen the air with our opinions.
As reality set in that we were stuck here, they became like relatives, people you didn’t choose but must love. The Charlemagne biographer’s habit of referring to Alex asHomo Juvenilisbecame a trend. I was working on a novel about early humans, and the biographer would quiz me nightly on my latest thoughts in regard to myHomo Primitivo, as if it were a creature I was keeping in my room. We now admired the Norwegian’s refusal of English, of Anglo-superdominance, like a monk’s rejection of intimate congress and a Luddite’s of looms. We accepted the journalist’s ritual invocation of Putin at dinner as one might an empty chair for Elijah. When the Charlemagne biographer suggested we each hold court with a story, and that it be not about the sickness, sadness and death that had afflicted this region, and instead a happy tale, we agreed. Tonight it was the Norwegian’s turn.

“My story is abouta man named Johan,” the Norwegian said in his language, and his wife repeated in English.
This was after dinner, which took place in a small room with an enormous table, its low ceiling greased and blackened by chimney smoke. The Norwegian told his story in fragments, to give his wife time to translate. As she spoke his words to us, he gazed off, introspective, his triangle of puffy gray hair aiming in two directions like divergent philosophies.
“I knew Johan through some university friends in Oslo. He had planned to move to Prague in the summer of 1993. Prague, then, attracted a certain type — people like Johan, college-educated layabouts without concrete aspirations who talked about wanting to ‘open a literary space’ or ‘start a magazine’ but mostly sat around feeling that life had little point. These types, which Johan perfectly illustrated, were moody and average-looking young men — and I should be an expert on them as I was one myself — depressives who lacked purpose but who, in the interim of locating one, slept late and read a lot of film criticism and French theory, and brooded over unobtainable women who burned into their field of vision. In failing to capture them, these unemployed men with a lot of free time felt greatly persecuted, which they took out on the somewhat homelier females who made themselves earnestly available.”
After translating this part, the wife and husband spoke in Norwegian to each other, as if working something out, about this story and what he would tell. We could see between them that he was the type he described, disgruntled, and with clumsy features, while the wife possessed that kind of beauty that seems like a form of cleverness, something she’s figured out that the rest of us haven’t.
“These men who didn’t know what to do with their lives, and only loved women who brutally ignored them, suffered from a general inertia they blamed on Oslo instead of themselves. Prague, and its opening to the West, the excitement of the Velvet Revolution, of cheap rent and a bohemian scene featuring superior and more obliging women, took on promise as a solution to poor character, to failure at life. Johan had a friend who was teaching at a film school there and invited him to come and stay. There was a going-away party that I myself attended, and then Johan took off for his new life. We were all a little begrudging. If he failed, we’d gloat. If he succeeded, maybe we, too, would move to Prague.
Johan arrived to that city’s airport on a cold and rainy Sunday morning. Nonresidents lined up, nothing out of the ordinary, Johan among them, excited for this new chapter, as the line inched forward to the rhythmic stamping of documents. When it was his turn to present his passport, the trouble began.
The immigration officer demanded to know why Johan’s passport was wrinkled, the photo water-damaged.
‘It’s still an official document,’ Johan explained to the officer, who remained as blank and steely as a military tank. ‘It’s just a bit worn because I spilled something on it a while back.’
At the other passport kiosks, stamps ka-junked and people sailed through, without interrogation or arguing, one after another, while Johan went in circles with the border agent.
Eventually he was taken to a small room with a reinforced door that was locked (he tried it), and left there for several hours. He began to understand, staring at the blank, reinforced door, that there was an iron fist under the velvet curtain, or however the expression went.
In the late afternoon, another man, as rude and dispassionate as the first, came in and asked him a series of questions. Johan answered and ‘tried not be a dick,’ as he later put it. He was left in the room again. It was evening before the same man came back and told Johan he would not be admitted to the country unless a representative from the Norwegian Consulate was willing to intervene and issue him a new passport. Johan was allowed to place a call to the consulate.One phone call,they said, as if he were guilty of something. Seeing as it was Sunday, the consulate was closed.
Johan was taken back to the long border-control hallway. The agent informed him he would remain there until the next day. If the consulate agreed to help him, he could gain entry. If not, they would force him onto a flight home.
It was late, and the hall was empty, the kiosks locked and dark. The other travelers had all gone on to unseen realities that Johan, trapped alone in this bleak interstice, envied. He sat in a chair. He was thirsty and had no water. He had no cigarettes. He was cold and had no jacket. He was trying to ‘lie down’ in the chair, his neck resting on the hard edge of the seat back, wondering if he could sleep this way, when he heard a loud bang.
At the other end of the hall was a young woman. She’d dropped a large red suitcase on the floor. Johan watched as she opened it and riffled through. She located cigarettes and lit one. Kneeling on the floor with the lit cigarette in her mouth, she proceeded to reorganize her suitcase, her busy movements those of someone free of worry, killing time. Periodically, she got up and paced around.
How did she have such energy? Johan had to focus his energy on his outrage at being detained.
She waved at him. He waved back. She walked down to his end of the hall and offered him a cigarette.
Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type, this confident girl in tight jeans and white high-top Converses. Later, he held onto details. The jeans. The high tops.
‘Why do they keep you?’ she asked in stilted English.
‘They don’t like my passport,’ he said. ‘What about you?’
She smiled and said, ‘I guess you could say they don’t like my passport either.’
He asked where she was from. Her answer, the way she said the word, became another detail he held tight. ‘Yugoslavia.’
Johan understood it was possible she had no passport for them to like or dislike, just as there was no Yugoslavia. Not anymore.
She was trying to go to Abu Dhabi, she said. Johan nodded, unable to remember if that was the Emirates or Qatar or where. He saw oil sheikhs and girls like this one. He wanted to ask questions, but all he could think of wasWho are you,which you never ask, and no one can answer.
She went back to her end of the hall. He smoked the cigarette as if inhaling the mystery of this brazen, sexy girl. He was pondering going down to speak with her when border agents came into the hall and approached her. There was a discussion that Johan could not hear, the girl nodding, not saying much. She was escorted out, dragging her big red suitcase.
Johan slept badly, upright, in the uncomfortable chair. When he woke, it was dawn. Rain fell over the tarmac beyond the windows in cruel sheets.”

“Johan’s dealing with the consulate,and the period in which he bummed around Prague, is not of interest to our story. He was there for a while and then home. He continued to think of that night at passport control, of the girl and her brave and casual boredom. He graded himself an F in enduring a taste of repressive Soviet-style authority. An F for failing to learn more about the girl when he had his chance.
Back in Oslo, Johan was hired in the first wave of the dot-com industry, sold his stake in a ‘start-up’ — whatever that is — and made good money. He could afford to travel and avoid working for a while. He decided to go to Abu Dhabi, to try to find the girl.
He’d read about women from poor and war-ravaged countries who immigrated there by arrangement with bad people who forced the women into prostitution. Johan felt certain the girl he met had come deliberately, knowingly, to hustle in an oil-rich nation. She grew larger in his mind.
He spent two weeks searching, night after night, in the various hooker establishments of Abu Dhabi, neobrutalist hotels with loud, smoky mezzanines, as he scanned the faces of women who scanned him as a mark. He watched women exit elevators and click through hotel lobbies, or stand around in lounges, preening and alert. His conversations usually ended in misunderstanding; the women all thought he was looking for a type, not a specific actual person. Or they played games, tossed false leads. Sure, I know her. Blond, yes? She’ll be here later. Or, I’ll arrange a party and you can see her. Or, You’ll forget all about her, trust me.
Only once did the offer seem worth pursuing. A dark-haired woman with large eyes and a crooked nose spoke to Johan in a frank way that he read as believable. I know this girl you mean. She’s Croatian. Me, I’m Croatian. She came here around then, yes. I think she told me about that, some trouble when she arrived. Yes, she’s still here.
That night, he went to the small, dingy club where the girl with the crooked nose said to meet. She was there with another girl who was tall, and blond. Her hair wasn’t long as he recalled, but short and bleached almost white. He told her his story, that he’d seen a girl — maybe her — in the airport trying to enter Prague three years earlier.
‘I don’t remember you,’ she said. ‘But I think that was me.’
‘Did you have a giant red suitcase?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I did.’
It was her, and of course she would not remember him. She was not going to be weighted by sentimental memories of a dweeb like Johan. He remembered her, and that was enough.
For the next week, Johan saw her every night, and every night, he paid for her company. He had planned to demonstrate his interest, his sincerity, by insisting they merely talk, get to know each other, despite the money he was spending. But that was not how things went. She seemed to prefer the exchange of services that she was used to, and Johan went along with it, perhaps too easily. This caused him guilt and confusion. But after several days together in this stilted arrangement, something shifted. She turned to him, you could say. I still don’t understand it. It’s baffling, but she fell in love with Johan.”
There was a pause in the story while the Norwegian and his wife spoke in their language. The wife’s tone was corrective.
“She wants me to here acknowledge,” she translated for him, speaking of herself in the third person, “that no one understands why anyone falls in love. And that my surprise that she did fall in love, instead of use him, probably derives from a cheap stereotype that post-bloc Slavic women are cynical and calculating. My wife is right. I should not be surprised the girl had a heart, and that she could find something to love in Johan, even if I don’t. I’m a lot like him, as I said, and we are, in truth, adversaries to a degree. But let us continue.
This girl moved to Oslo with Johan. The first few months, for him anyhow — we can’t speak for her — were blissful. The person he’d fantasized about for three long years was funny and charming. His friends all liked her. She adapted easily, and even took it upon herself to learn Norwegian.
But as they settled into life together, doubt crept in for Johan. If he went out alone, she’d ask where he’d been. Occasionally, when they passed other women on the street, part of him peeled off, dreamed of strangers. One morning she turned to him in bed and her breath, morning rank, singed his nostrils like a moral failing. All he could do was hold his own breath.
He started to become annoyed when she didn’t know a particular band, a movie. Since he’d spent his early 20s slacking and absorbing culture while she was fleeing a failed state, he was impatient with her ignorance of what mattered to him.
She began to want sex with Johan more than he wanted it with her. That it was always available to him devalued it to a degree he’d never imagined possible. It was like walking through a room constantly filled with steaming piles of food and you really just want a break from food. He wanted a break from her.
He suggested she visit her mother, who lived in Zagreb. It was while she was away that he began to suspect she was not, perhaps had never been, the heroic creature in the airport with the white high tops. They don’t like my passport either. He was riven by nostalgia for that girl. Because this one, it wasn’t her. Even if it was her it wasn’t her. What he’d seen, wanted, extolled, was not the girl he’d found. She wasn’t heroic. She was normal, needy, imperfect. The relationship, as far as he was concerned, was over.
Johan was too cowardly to tell her in person. When she returned from her mother’s, he’d left her a note. He said he’d be gone a few days while she sorted out what to do and where to go. Johan took a train to Sweden. He sat in an ugly hotel bar with brash Swedes and drank flat, tasteless beer and felt depression spreading through his body. It was wintertime and bleak. The girl he’d dreamed of was nowhere to be found. This plunged him into existential crisis. He stared out the window at the heavy sky and bare trees, which had tattered plastic bags caught in their branches.”

The Norwegian sighed audiblyand looked around the table, as if for a reaction. His wife was also quiet.
We were all confused. This was it?
“But, but but,” the Charlemagne biographer said, “what about a happy ending? That was the rule.”
“It is a happy ending,” the Norwegian said in his language, and his wife repeated in ours.
“Of sad Johan drinking flat beer in a tacky bar, loveless and alone?”
“The story is happy for me,” the Norwegian said, “not for Johan.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Because I married the woman he was looking for. And she is telling you this story now.”
We all looked at his wife.
“My husband has had his fun,” she said, and mussed his hair, but lovingly. “And tomorrow I will have mine, as it will be my turn.”
And with that, we said good night.
The girlWith theBig RedsuItcase
By
Rachel Kushner
A short story from The New York Times Magazine’s Decameron Project.
Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type.
Illustration byAbang
Spot illustrations and lettering bySophy Hollington
—
Rachel Kushneris the author of the novels “Telex from Cuba,” “The Flamethrowers” and “The Mars Room.” A book of essays, “The Hard Crowd,” will be published next spring.
Abangis a visual artist based in Seoul, South Korea. Her recent work has focused on spatial direction, portraits and sculptures.
Sophy Hollingtonis a British artist and illustrator. She is known for her use of relief prints, created using the process of the linocut and inspired by meteoric folklore as well as alchemical symbolism.
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The Decameron Project ·
He continued to think of that night at passport control, of the girl and her brave and casual boredom. He told her his story, that he’d seen a girl — maybe her — in the airport trying to enter Prague three years earlier. It’s baffling, but she fell in love with Johan.” There was a pause in the story while the Norwegian and his wife spoke in their language. In failing to capture them, these unemployed men with a lot of free time felt greatly persecuted, which they took out on the somewhat homelier females who made themselves earnestly available.” After translating this part, the wife and husband spoke in Norwegian to each other, as if working something out, about this story and what he would tell. Later, he held onto details. He remembered her, and that was enough. By New fiction: “He didn’t like to talk about his brother much in those days. The Norwegian told his story in fragments, to give his wife time to translate. He was pondering going down to speak with her when border agents came into the hall and approached her. By Dina Nayeri New fiction: “He didn’t like to talk about his brother much in those days. New fiction: “Everyone had left the city — except for the woman on the 14th floor.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. Johan felt certain the girl he met had come deliberately, knowingly, to hustle in an oil-rich nation. He’d read about women from poor and war-ravaged countries who immigrated there by arrangement with bad people who forced the women into prostitution. By Rivka Galchen New fiction: “‘You’re addicted to being awkward,’ his mother said to him that afternoon. By John Wray New fiction: “She used to tell me, ‘If he is going to imagine something, let him imagine his home country.’” From the magazine’s Decameron Project.
New Fiction: "Up Close, He Saw That She was Way Beyond His League: In Other Words, Exactly His Type"

From the magazine's Decameron Project, a collection of new fiction and essays, comes a heartwarming and relatable story about love, self-doubt, and the power of acceptance.

The story begins with our protagonist, who remains unnamed throughout the narrative, reflecting on the events of the past week. "Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week," he says. The city has emptied out, with everyone leaving except for the woman on the 14th floor. "But I'm not letting myself be fooled," he adds, hinting at his skepticism and insecurity.

The protagonist works as a caretaker, taking care of those who need it most. "No complications, that was how Chrissy thought of clients like them," he says, but little does he know that his life is about to change in ways he never imagined.

One day, while going about his usual routine, he encounters a woman in need of his help. She is described as "way beyond his league," but something about her draws him in. "Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type," he admits.

Despite his initial reservations, the protagonist finds himself drawn to the woman, who remains unnamed throughout the story. He is captivated by her strength, resilience, and kindness, and before he knows it, he finds himself falling in love.

However, the protagonist is plagued by self-doubt and insecurity. He can't believe that someone as amazing as the woman could ever love him back. "Between them lay a gentle hatred," he says, referring to the animosity he feels towards himself.

But the woman sees something in him that he can't see in himself. She challenges him to let go of his self-doubt and to embrace himself fully. And slowly but surely, the protagonist begins to see himself in a new light.

The story is a beautiful exploration of love, self-acceptance, and the power of vulnerability. It reminds us that sometimes, the people who are way beyond our league are exactly the ones who are meant for us. And most importantly, it reminds us that we are all worthy of love, no matter how much we may doubt ourselves.

As the protagonist says, "At night, I'd stare at my wife's back in the dim light of the bedroom, and I'd see a ridge too high to climb." But with the help of the woman on the 14th floor, he learns to see himself as worthy of climbing that ridge, and of finding love and acceptance in himself and in others.

In the end, the story is a testament to the power of love, not just between two people, but also within ourselves. It reminds us that we are all capable of finding love, acceptance, and happiness, no matter how much we may doubt ourselves. And most importantly, it reminds us that we are all worthy of it.
New Fiction: "Up Close, He Saw That She Was Way Beyond His League: In Other Words, Exactly His Type"

From the magazine's Decameron Project, a new fiction story begins with the protagonist reflecting on the events of the past week. The city has been deserted, with everyone leaving except for the woman on the 14th floor. He had told himself not to be fooled, but there was something about her that drew him in.

He didn't like to talk about his brother much in those days, as they had a strained relationship. But now, he couldn't help but compare himself to his brother, wondering if he would have had the courage to approach the woman on the 14th floor.

As he stood outside her apartment, he took a deep breath and knocked on the door. To his surprise, she answered, and up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league. She was beautiful, intelligent, and confident, everything he wasn't. But in that moment, he realized that she was exactly his type.

He stumbled over his words, trying to make conversation, but she seemed to be at ease. They talked about the state of the city, the loneliness that came with being one of the few people left, and the dogs that had taken over the town.

Days turned into weeks, and they grew closer. He found himself opening up to her about his past, his fears, and his dreams. And she listened, offering comfort and support.

But he couldn't shake off the feeling that she was out of his league. He was just a simple man, with a simple life, while she was a successful businesswoman. He couldn't understand why she would be interested in him.

One day, as they sat on her balcony, overlooking the empty streets, she turned to him and said, "You know, I used to think you were way out of my league."

He was taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"I thought you were too good for me. You were kind, intelligent, and interesting. I didn't think I deserved someone like you."

He was speechless. He had never thought of himself as being out of her league. He had always seen himself as the underdog, the one who didn't belong.

But in that moment, he realized that they were both wrong. They were not out of each other's league. They were exactly what the other needed.

He took her hand and said, "You know what? I think we're exactly what each other needs."

And with that, they sat in silence, watching the sunset, knowing that they had found something special in each other.

In the end, the man from the magazine's Decameron Project learned that love knows no league. It transcends all boundaries, and it's not about being better than the other person. It's about finding someone who understands you, supports you, and loves you for who you are. And that's exactly what he found in the woman on the 14th floor.
New Fiction: "Up Close, He Saw That She was Way Beyond His League: In Other Words, Exactly His Type"

From the magazine's Decameron Project, a collection of new fiction short stories, comes a tale of love, longing, and self-doubt. The story begins by introducing us to a man who has been through a lot, including an accident that "stopped Time." He's not one to talk about his past, but we learn that he has a brother who he doesn't like to mention. The city he lives in is now empty, except for a woman who lives on the 14th floor of a nearby building.

The man can't help but be drawn to this woman, even though he feels that she is "way beyond his league." Yet, he can't shake off the feeling that she is exactly the kind of person he is attracted to. He observes her from a distance, taking note of her every move, trying to muster up the courage to talk to her.

As the story unfolds, we learn more about the woman on the 14th floor. She's a survivor, much like the man, and has a quiet strength that draws people to her. Despite the emptiness of the city, she remains hopeful, always looking for the best in people.

The man and the woman eventually meet, and there is an immediate connection between them. They share stories of their past, their hopes, and their dreams. The man can't believe that someone like her would be interested in him, but she sees something in him that he can't see in himself.

As they spend more time together, the man begins to see himself in a new light. He realizes that he is worthy of love and that he doesn't have to settle for less. The woman, too, sees a change in him, and she is drawn to his newfound confidence.

However, the story doesn't have a fairy tale ending. The man and the woman both have their demons to face, and they can't always be there for each other. But they continue to support each other, knowing that they have found something special in each other.

The story is a reminder that love can be found in the most unexpected places, even in a city that has been left behind by everyone else. It's a reminder that we are all worthy of love, no matter how much we doubt ourselves. And it's a reminder that sometimes, the person who is "way beyond our league" is exactly the person we need in our lives.

In conclusion, "Up Close, He Saw That She was Way Beyond His League: In Other Words, Exactly His Type" is a heartwarming and thought-provoking story that is sure to resonate with readers. It's a testament to the power of love, the importance of self-belief, and the beauty of human connection. So, if you're looking for a story that will touch your heart and make you think, be sure to check out the Decameron Project's new fiction collection.
New Fiction: “Up Close, He Saw That She Was Way Beyond His League: In Other Words, Exactly His Type”

The Decameron Project, a collection of new fiction, brings us another captivating story. The protagonist, yet to be named, has been living in a world where time has come to a standstill. The city is deserted, save for a mysterious woman on the 14th floor of a nearby building. The protagonist has been observing her from a distance, unable to shake off the feeling that she is far beyond his league, yet somehow, exactly his type.

Before the accident that stopped time, the protagonist had a life full of complications. He had clients, such as Chrissy, who he viewed as straightforward, but they all came with their own set of challenges. Additionally, he had a brother he didn't like to talk about, and a complex relationship with his wife.

The woman on the 14th floor, who remains unnamed, has also experienced loss. Her husband, who she loved deeply, has passed away, leaving her alone in a deserted city. Despite this, she maintains a sense of resilience and independence.

One day, the protagonist decides to approach the woman on the 14th floor. Up close, he sees that she is even more stunning than he had imagined. Her beauty is not just physical, but it emanates from within. The protagonist is instantly drawn to her, but he cannot shake off the feeling that she is out of his league.

However, the woman on the 14th floor surprises him. Despite his initial reservations, she is receptive to his advances. They begin to spend time together, exploring the deserted city and sharing stories of their past. The protagonist is surprised to find that the woman is not only beautiful but also kind, intelligent, and witty.

As they spend more time together, the protagonist finds himself falling in love with the woman on the 14th floor. He knows that she is way beyond his league, but he cannot help but be drawn to her. The woman, too, finds herself drawn to the protagonist, despite his initial awkwardness and reservations.

In the end, the protagonist learns that love is not about leagues or levels of compatibility. It is about accepting and cherishing the other person for who they are, flaws and all. The woman on the 14th floor, who he once thought was way beyond his league, becomes his partner, his confidant, and his lover.

Through this enchanting tale, the Decameron Project once again delivers a story that captivates the heart and mind. The themes of love, resilience, and acceptance are woven throughout the narrative, leaving readers with a sense of hope and warmth. So, if you're looking for a story that will lift your spirits and touch your heart, be sure to check out "Up Close, He Saw That She Was Way Beyond His League: In Other Words, Exactly His Type."
Title: Beyond the League: A Tale of Unlikely Love from the Decameron Project

The city was deserted, but she remained. Perched on the 14th floor, she was a solitary figure amidst the vast urban landscape. He, on the other hand, was a man of many complications, a man who didn't like to talk about his brother much in those days. Yet, he found himself drawn to her, this woman beyond his league, exactly his type.

Before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week. Even the dogs, big or small, mongrel or pedigree, had the run of the town. But he was not letting himself be fooled. He kept pummeling, pushing forward, driven by a force he didn't understand.

Two people in what looked like spacesuits had wheeled him inside. He was a man of complications, but she was different. She was a ridge too high to climb, a gentle hatred lying between them. Yet, there was a magnetic pull, a draw that was undeniable.

As they navigated through the empty streets, he found himself staring at her back in the dim light of the bedroom. He wanted to believe in this unlikely love, this connection that transcended leagues. But he was cautious, careful not to let his hopes soar too high.

In the world they inhabited, babies got fevers, and toilets ran out of paper. Yet, amidst the chaos, they found solace in each other. She was a beacon of hope, a light guiding him through the darkness. Despite the complications, despite the gentle hatred, he was drawn to her, like a moth to a flame.

As the days passed, they grew closer. A hundred twenty days had passed since someone last touched him, but her touch was different. It was comforting, reassuring, a balm to his weary soul.

In the end, it was their differences that brought them together. He was a man of many complications, but she was simple, straightforward. She was beyond his league, but she was also exactly his type. And in a world that had stopped, they found a rhythm, a beat that was all their own.

So, he continued to pummel, to push forward, drawn by a force he didn't understand. But this time, he wasn't alone. He had her, and for now, that was enough.
The New York Times Magazine's Decameron Project continues to captivate readers with its latest piece of short fiction, exploring themes of attraction, self-perception, and the complexities of human relationships. The story opens with an intriguing line: "Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type."

This tantalizing introduction sets the stage for a tale that delves into the psychology of desire and the often contradictory nature of romantic pursuits. The protagonist, whose identity remains a mystery, finds himself drawn to a woman he perceives as unattainable. This dynamic immediately creates tension and raises questions about the character's motivations and self-esteem.

The Decameron Project, inspired by Giovanni Boccaccio's 14th-century work "The Decameron," has been featuring a collection of new short stories from renowned authors. These pieces often reflect on contemporary issues, isolation, and human connections, particularly in the context of challenging times.

This latest addition to the project continues the trend of exploring intimate human experiences and emotions. The story likely examines the protagonist's journey as he navigates his attraction to someone he considers "beyond his league," potentially uncovering deeper insecurities or past experiences that have shaped his romantic preferences.

As with other entries in the Decameron Project, readers can expect a nuanced exploration of character and relationships, possibly set against the backdrop of current social issues or global events. The story may touch on themes of self-worth, the nature of attraction, and the sometimes self-defeating patterns people fall into when pursuing romantic interests.

While the full story is yet to be revealed, this teaser suggests a compelling narrative that will resonate with many readers who have experienced the complex emotions associated with attraction and self-doubt in the realm of romance.

The New York Times Magazine continues to provide a platform for thought-provoking fiction through the Decameron Project, offering readers a moment of reflection and connection through these carefully crafted short stories.
The New York Times Magazine's Decameron Project continues to captivate readers with its latest addition to the series of short fiction pieces inspired by the current global pandemic. In this new story, the author explores the age-old theme of romantic pursuit and the allure of the unattainable.

The tale begins with a tantalizing opening line: "Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type." This sentence immediately sets the stage for a story of desire, self-doubt, and the complex dynamics of attraction.

As with other entries in the Decameron Project, this piece likely delves into the unique circumstances and emotions brought about by the ongoing health crisis. The protagonist's pursuit of someone seemingly out of reach may serve as a metaphor for the longing for connection and normalcy in a world turned upside down by the pandemic.

The story joins a collection of other thought-provoking narratives in the project, each offering a unique perspective on life during these unprecedented times. From tales of empty cities and isolated individuals to explorations of family dynamics and societal changes, the Decameron Project has provided a platform for writers to process and reflect on the collective experience of the pandemic through fiction.

As readers have come to expect from the series, this new addition promises to blend elements of romance, introspection, and social commentary, all while examining the human condition in a world grappling with uncertainty and change.

The Decameron Project, inspired by Giovanni Boccaccio's 14th-century work "The Decameron," continues to serve as a literary time capsule, capturing the myriad ways in which the global crisis has affected our lives, relationships, and perceptions of the world around us.
The New York Times Magazine's Decameron Project continues to captivate readers with its latest piece of short fiction, exploring the complexities of human attraction and self-perception. In this new story, the author presents a familiar yet intriguing scenario: a man finds himself drawn to a woman he perceives as out of his league.

The opening line, "Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type," immediately sets the tone for a tale of romantic pursuit and self-doubt. This paradoxical statement suggests that the protagonist is both aware of his own perceived shortcomings and drawn to those he views as superior.

Like many entries in the Decameron Project, this story likely delves into the nuances of human relationships during challenging times. The project, inspired by Boccaccio's 14th-century work "The Decameron," features contemporary authors writing fiction that reflects on life during the COVID-19 pandemic.

While the full story is not provided, the premise hints at themes of insecurity, aspiration, and the often-complicated nature of attraction. It may explore how isolation and unusual circumstances can affect our perceptions of ourselves and others, as well as our willingness to pursue connections that might otherwise seem out of reach.

The Decameron Project has featured a wide range of stories, from tales of empty cities and time standing still to explorations of family dynamics and the challenges of maintaining relationships during a pandemic. This new addition promises to add another layer to the collection, offering readers a relatable and potentially humorous take on romance in extraordinary times.

As with other entries in the project, this story is likely to resonate with readers who have experienced their own moments of self-doubt or unexpected attraction during periods of isolation and uncertainty. It serves as a reminder that even in the most unusual circumstances, human nature – with all its contradictions and complexities – remains a constant source of fascination and literary inspiration.
The New York Times Magazine's Decameron Project continues to captivate readers with its latest piece of short fiction, exploring themes of attraction, self-perception, and the complexities of human relationships. In this new installment, the author presents a familiar yet intriguing scenario: a man finds himself drawn to a woman he perceives as out of his league.

The story opens with a vivid description of the protagonist's first close encounter with the object of his affection. As he approaches her, he's struck by her beauty and poise, immediately recognizing that she is "way beyond his league." However, instead of being deterred, this realization only intensifies his attraction, as the narrator wryly observes that she is "exactly his type."

This premise sets the stage for a nuanced exploration of self-worth, societal expectations, and the often irrational nature of romantic attraction. The author skillfully delves into the protagonist's psyche, revealing his insecurities and the internal dialogue that both hinders and propels him forward in his pursuit.

As with other entries in the Decameron Project, this story is likely set against the backdrop of unusual or challenging circumstances, possibly alluding to the ongoing global pandemic. This context adds an extra layer of tension and urgency to the narrative, as characters navigate not only their personal desires but also a world in flux.

The Decameron Project, inspired by Giovanni Boccaccio's 14th-century work "The Decameron," continues to offer a diverse array of voices and perspectives, each grappling with themes of isolation, connection, and resilience in times of crisis. This latest addition promises to be a thought-provoking and emotionally resonant contribution to the series, inviting readers to reflect on their own experiences of love, longing, and self-perception in an ever-changing world.
The New York Times Magazine's Decameron Project continues to captivate readers with its latest installment of short fiction. In this new piece, the author explores the age-old trope of romantic pursuit and the allure of the unattainable.

The story opens with a tantalizing line: "Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type." This sets the stage for a tale of desire, self-doubt, and the complex dance of attraction between two seemingly mismatched individuals.

As with other entries in the Decameron Project, this story likely unfolds against the backdrop of isolation and societal upheaval. The project, inspired by Boccaccio's 14th-century work "The Decameron," features contemporary authors crafting fiction that reflects our current times of pandemic and social distancing.

Throughout the collection, themes of loneliness, connection, and resilience emerge. Stories range from surreal accounts of time stopping to poignant observations of city life grinding to a halt. In this particular narrative, the author delves into the psychology of attraction and the ways in which people seek connection, even when it seems improbable or ill-advised.

The Decameron Project has showcased a variety of narrative styles and perspectives. Some stories, like "Everyone had left the city — except for the woman on the 14th floor," paint vivid pictures of urban isolation. Others, such as "Two people in what looked like spacesuits had wheeled him inside," hint at the strange new realities of life during a pandemic.

This latest addition to the project promises to blend romantic tension with the underlying current of uncertainty that characterizes our times. As readers follow the protagonist's pursuit of someone "way beyond his league," they may find themselves reflecting on their own desires and the ways in which crisis can reshape our perceptions of what's possible or worth pursuing.

The New York Times Magazine's Decameron Project continues to provide a platform for authors to explore the human condition in extraordinary circumstances, offering readers a chance to find solace, understanding, and even humor in shared experiences of isolation and yearning.
##  He Saw She Was Way Beyond His League: Exactly His Type

He'd never been one for grand gestures, for sweeping pronouncements of love. He was a man of quiet observation, of stolen glances and half-formed thoughts. So when he saw her across the crowded room, he didn't blurt out a declaration or rush to her side. He simply watched. 

She was a vision, a whirlwind of energy and laughter, surrounded by a constellation of admirers. He knew, with a certainty that surprised him, that she was way beyond his league.  She was everything he wasn't: confident, outgoing, effortlessly charming.  

But that's exactly what made her his type. 

He'd always been drawn to the unattainable, the shimmering mirage on the horizon.  He'd spent years building walls around his heart, convinced that vulnerability was a weakness. Yet, there she was, shattering those walls with a single smile. 

He found himself drawn to her orbit, captivated by her every word, every gesture. He'd linger near her, hoping for a chance encounter, a fleeting moment of connection. He knew it was foolish, a hopeless pursuit, but he couldn't help himself. 

He was a moth to her flame, drawn to the warmth and light she radiated. He knew he might get burned, but the possibility of a spark, however fleeting, was too tempting to resist. 

He watched her, studied her, memorized the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, the way her hair cascaded down her shoulders like a silken waterfall. He knew he was falling, and he didn't want to fight it. 

Maybe, just maybe, she'd see him too. Maybe, in the chaos of her world, she'd notice the quiet observer, the man who saw her beauty not just on the surface, but in the depths of her soul. 


He knew the odds were stacked against him, but he was willing to take the risk. After all, what was life without a little bit of hope, a little bit of longing? 
<end_of_turn>
##  He Saw She Was Way Beyond His League: Exactly His Type

He'd been nursing a lukewarm beer at the bar, watching the rain lash against the window, when she walked in.  She was a vision, all sharp angles and effortless grace, her laughter a melody that cut through the bar's low hum. He felt his heart do a nervous little tap dance against his ribs. 

He knew, with a certainty that bordered on painful, that she was way beyond his league. She radiated an aura of confidence and sophistication that he could only dream of.  She was the kind of woman who belonged in art galleries and cocktail parties, not in a dimly lit dive bar on a Tuesday night.

But there was something about her, a spark in her eyes, a hint of vulnerability beneath the polished exterior, that drew him in.  He found himself staring, mesmerized, as she moved through the room, a beacon of light in the dreary evening.

He knew he should stay put, pretend he hadn't noticed her. But something, perhaps a reckless streak he hadn't known he possessed, urged him forward. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and walked towards her.

As he approached, he saw her up close. Her eyes, the color of a stormy sea, met his with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.  Her smile, when it came, was like a sunrise, chasing away the shadows of his self-doubt.

"Hi," he managed, his voice a little shaky.

"Hello," she replied, her voice a soft melody.

And in that moment, he knew. He was hopelessly, irrevocably smitten. She was everything he wasn't, everything he desired, and yet, somehow, he felt a connection, a spark of recognition.

He was way out of his league, but that didn't matter.  Because in that moment, she was exactly his type.


<end_of_turn>
##  Up Close, He Saw She Was Way Beyond His League: Exactly His Type

He'd never been one for grand gestures.  His love life, like his apartment, was sparsely furnished, lacking in both drama and furniture. He was content with the predictability of takeout dinners and reruns, the quiet hum of routine. Yet, there she was, a supernova in a sea of flickering streetlights.

She walked into the coffee shop with the kind of confidence that made heads turn, the kind that sent a tremor through his carefully constructed composure. Her laughter, a cascade of silver bells, cut through the low murmur of conversation, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. 

He watched her from across the room, his gaze lingering on the way the sunlight caught the auburn strands of her hair, the way her eyes sparkled with intelligence and mischief.  She was a masterpiece, a symphony of grace and wit, and he, a simple melody, barely worthy of her attention.

"She's way beyond my league," he thought, a familiar pang of self-deprecation twisting in his gut.  But then, a rebellious voice whispered in his ear, "Exactly her type."

He knew it was a fool's hope, a desperate longing for something he couldn't possibly have.  Yet, something compelled him to cross the room, to break the invisible barrier that separated them.

He approached her table, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.  He stammered an introduction, his voice barely a whisper.  She smiled, a smile that could melt glaciers, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

Maybe, just maybe, he thought, this time would be different.  Maybe, this time, he'd be brave enough to step out of his comfort zone and into the dazzling unknown. 


This time, he'd be the melody that matched her symphony. 
<end_of_turn>
##  He's Got It Bad: A Love Story in the Age of the Unattainable 

From the Decameron Project, a new series exploring the complexities of human connection, comes a poignant story about love, longing, and the chasm between aspiration and reality.  

The unnamed narrator, a man clearly smitten, encounters a woman who, in his words, is "way beyond his league."  He acknowledges the vast gulf between them, yet finds himself inexplicably drawn to her, a testament to the irresistible power of attraction.  

This isn't a tale of conventional romance. The story hints at a world where societal norms and expectations have been irrevocably altered.  The opening line, "Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week," suggests a backdrop of disruption and uncertainty.  This context, coupled with the narrator's unwavering infatuation despite acknowledging her unattainability, paints a picture of a man grappling with love in a world teetering on the edge of chaos.

The story is a study in internal conflict.  The narrator oscillates between self-awareness and wishful thinking, recognizing the impossibility of the situation while simultaneously clinging to the hope of something more.  His internal monologue reveals a man torn between his desire and his pragmatism, a poignant reflection of the human experience of love.

The Decameron Project, with its focus on diverse narratives and unconventional storytelling, provides a fertile ground for exploring such complex themes. This particular story, with its enigmatic setting and introspective protagonist, promises a glimpse into the human heart amidst the ruins of a world forever changed. 


<end_of_turn>
## Up Close, He Saw She Was Way Beyond His League: Exactly His Type

The flickering neon sign of the "Last Chance Diner" cast an eerie glow on the rain-slicked street. Inside, Michael sat hunched over a lukewarm coffee, staring out at the deserted cityscape. Even before the accident – the one that had stopped time, leaving the world suspended in a perpetual present – it had been a rough week. Now, with the silence amplifying every internal monologue, it felt like an eternity. 

He was a man accustomed to solitude, but tonight, the emptiness felt particularly acute. He'd come seeking solace in the familiar greasy spoon, a haven of sorts in a world turned upside down. But the usual comforting clatter of dishes and low hum of conversation were absent, replaced by an unsettling stillness.

Then, she walked in.

She was a vision, all sharp angles and effortless grace. Her hair was a cascade of raven curls, framing eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe.  She moved with a confidence that both intimidated and attracted him. In that instant, Michael knew he was out of his league. She was a goddess, and he, a mere mortal. 

Yet, despite the chasm that seemed to separate them, a strange pull drew him towards her. It was the kind of attraction that ignited a fire in his soul, a yearning for something beyond the mundane, beyond the desolate landscape of his existence.

He watched as she sat at the counter, her gaze lost in the swirling steam rising from her coffee. He wanted to talk to her, to bridge the gap that separated them, but his tongue felt heavy, his words trapped in his throat.

He knew, with a certainty that surprised him, that she was exactly his type. Not because she fit some preconceived notion or ideal, but because she represented something more. She was a beacon of light in a world shrouded in darkness, a reminder that even in the stillness, life, in all its messy, chaotic beauty, persisted.

As she rose to leave, catching his gaze for a fleeting moment, Michael felt a surge of hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, in this suspended world, anything was possible.


<end_of_turn>
**The Haunting Reality of Abandonment and Isolation**

In a world where time seems to have come to a standstill, a peculiar phenomenon has been observed. Cities, once bustling with life, now lie empty and still, as if waiting for something – or someone – to awaken them. This eerie silence has become a haunting reality, one that resonates deeply with those who have been left behind.

In a recent series of short stories, published in The New York Times' Decameron Project, authors have delved into the complexities of human connection in a world devoid of community. From the 14th floor of a deserted skyscraper to the confines of a solitary bedroom, the stories paint a poignant picture of isolation and longing.

One such tale, "Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week," sets the tone for the collection. The narrative follows a woman who finds herself alone in a city that has been evacuated, leaving her to navigate the empty streets and buildings. As she searches for answers, she begins to realize that she is not alone in her isolation.

Another story, "Everyone had left the city — except for the woman on the 14th floor," takes a more introspective approach. The protagonist, a woman with a mysterious past, finds solace in the silence of her apartment, where she can escape the world outside. However, as the days turn into weeks, she begins to feel the weight of her solitude, and the lines between reality and fantasy start to blur.

In "No complications, that was how Chrissy thought of clients like them," a young woman named Chrissy takes on a peculiar profession – providing companionship to those who are lonely. Her clients, however, are not what they seem, and as Chrissy delves deeper into their world, she discovers that their isolation is not just physical, but also emotional.

The stories also explore the complexities of human relationships, particularly in the face of adversity. In "At night, I'd stare at my wife's back in the dim light of the bedroom, and I'd see a ridge too high to climb," a man's love for his wife is put to the test as he struggles to come to terms with his own feelings of inadequacy.

Throughout the collection, the authors raise important questions about the human condition – what it means to be connected, to be alone, and to find meaning in a world that seems to have lost its way. As we navigate our own lives, we are reminded that even in the most isolating moments, there is always the possibility for connection, for understanding, and for healing.

The Decameron Project's latest series is a powerful reminder that, even in the darkest of times, there is always hope for a brighter tomorrow. As we continue to navigate the complexities of our own world, these stories offer a poignant reminder of the importance of human connection and the power of the human spirit.
## New Fiction: “Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project.

The Decameron Project, a literary initiative that invites writers to explore the boundaries of fiction, continues to deliver captivating stories. This week's offering, a short story titled "Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type," promises a compelling exploration of desire, social dynamics, and the complexities of attraction. 

The intriguing opening line, a seemingly contradictory statement, immediately piques the reader's curiosity.  It sets the stage for a narrative that delves into the internal conflicts of a character grappling with the allure of someone seemingly unattainable. The phrase "way beyond his league" suggests a sense of self-doubt and social hierarchy, while "exactly his type" hints at a deeper, perhaps even contradictory, attraction. 

The Decameron Project has consistently showcased a diverse range of voices and perspectives, and this new story promises to be no exception.  We eagerly anticipate the unfolding of this narrative, exploring the nuances of the protagonist's internal struggle and the potential consequences of his pursuit. 

Stay tuned for more captivating stories from the Decameron Project, where imagination and literary prowess collide to deliver compelling narratives that challenge and inspire. 

## New Fiction: “Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project.

The Decameron Project, a captivating new initiative from [Magazine Name], presents a collection of short stories crafted by a diverse array of talented authors. Each piece is a unique glimpse into the complexities of human experience, offering a window into the intricacies of relationships, the weight of personal history, and the constant push and pull of life's circumstances.

This week's featured story,  "Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type," invites readers to delve into the mind of a character who is captivated by someone seemingly out of reach. The opening line, with its playful twist, sets the stage for a story exploring the allure of unattainable desire. 

The Decameron Project is quickly gaining a reputation for its compelling narratives and diverse voices.  From tales of isolation and the aftermath of global events to intimate explorations of family dynamics and personal struggles, the project promises to captivate readers with its honest and impactful storytelling. 

If you're looking for a fresh and thought-provoking read, be sure to check out the Decameron Project. You can find the full collection of stories, including "Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type," on [Magazine Name]'s website. 

Title: "Up Close, She Was Way Beyond His League: In Other Words, Exactly His Type"

In the midst of a chaotic week, a man found himself drawn to a woman who seemed out of his reach. As he stood before her, he realized that she was way beyond his league, but that only made her more appealing to him. This was exactly his type.

The man had been through a lot in the past few days. Time seemed to have stopped after an accident that left him shaken and unsure of what the future held. But then he saw her, and everything changed.

She was different from anyone he had ever met. Her beauty was not just physical, but also in the way she carried herself and the confidence she exuded. He felt like he was in the presence of someone truly special.

Despite his reservations, he found himself drawn to her. He couldn't help but feel like she was the missing piece in his life. But he knew that he had to be careful. He didn't want to make a fool of himself or ruin any chance he had with her.

As they talked, he realized that they had more in common than he had initially thought. They shared a love for literature and art, and they both had a passion for exploring the world around them. He felt like he had found a kindred spirit.

But as the night wore on, he began to feel nervous. He didn't want to ruin the connection they had by making a move too soon. He knew that he had to play it cool and wait for the right moment.

As they said their goodbyes, he felt a sense of longing. He knew that he wanted to see her again, but he didn't know how to make that happen. He felt like he was in a dream, and he didn't want to wake up.

In the days that followed, he couldn't stop thinking about her. He replayed their conversation in his head and wondered what could have been. He knew that he had to take a chance and reach out to her.

When he finally mustered up the courage to call her, he was surprised to find that she felt the same way. They made plans to meet again, and he felt like he was on top of the world.

As they spent more time together, he realized that she was not just beautiful, but also intelligent, kind, and funny. He felt like he had hit the jackpot.

In the end, he realized that sometimes the things we think are out of our reach are exactly what we need. And sometimes, the people we think are way beyond our league are exactly our type.
Title: "Up Close, He Saw That She Was Way Beyond His League: In Other Words, Exactly His Type"

In the midst of a chaotic week, a man finds himself drawn to a woman who seems out of his league. As the city empties out due to an unknown crisis, the two find themselves alone on the 14th floor of a deserted building.

He had always been a bit of a loner, content with his own company and his books. But when he saw her, something stirred within him. She was beautiful, with long dark hair and piercing green eyes. Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type.

Despite the danger that surrounded them, they found solace in each other's company. They talked for hours, sharing stories and secrets that they had never told anyone before. He was surprised by how easy it was to talk to her, how comfortable he felt in her presence.

As the days passed, their connection grew stronger. They explored the empty streets together, marveling at the silence that had descended upon the city. Dogs, big or small, mongrel or pedigree, had the run of the town, and the two of them watched as they played and fought in the deserted streets.

But even as they grew closer, he couldn't shake the feeling that she was too good for him. He didn't like to talk about his brother much in those days, but he knew that his own insecurities were holding him back. He was afraid that she would see him for who he really was and reject him.

One night, as they lay in bed together, he mustered up the courage to tell her how he felt. "I know I'm not the kind of guy you usually go for," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't help the way I feel about you."

To his surprise, she smiled and took his hand. "I feel the same way," she said. "But I'm not letting myself be fooled. I know that we're in a strange situation, and that things might be different when we leave this building. But for now, I want to be with you."

And so they spent their days together, exploring the empty city and enjoying each other's company. They knew that their time was limited, but they were determined to make the most of it. As they lay in bed together, staring up at the ceiling, he knew that he had found something special. Up close, she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type. And he was grateful for every moment they had together.
Title: "Up Close, She Was Way Beyond His League: In Other Words, Exactly His Type"

In the latest installment of the Decameron Project, a collection of new fiction pieces from The New Yorker, readers are treated to a story that explores the complexities of attraction and self-worth.

The story opens with the protagonist, a man whose name is never revealed, observing a woman from a distance. He notes her striking appearance and the way she carries herself with confidence and poise. As he approaches her, he realizes that she is "way beyond his league," a sentiment that many people can relate to when it comes to romantic attraction.

However, the man soon realizes that this woman, who he initially thought was out of his reach, is actually "exactly his type." This realization leads him to question his own self-worth and the arbitrary nature of societal standards of beauty and desirability.

As the story unfolds, the man and the woman strike up a conversation, and it becomes clear that they have a connection that goes beyond physical attraction. They share a sense of humor and a love of literature, and the man begins to see her as more than just a pretty face.

The story is a poignant exploration of the ways in which our perceptions of ourselves and others can be distorted by societal norms and expectations. It also touches on the idea that true connection and compatibility can often be found in unexpected places.

Overall, "Up Close, She Was Way Beyond His League: In Other Words, Exactly His Type" is a thought-provoking and engaging read that will resonate with anyone who has ever felt like they were not good enough or has questioned the arbitrary nature of societal standards of beauty and desirability. It is a testament to the power of literature to explore complex themes and emotions in a way that is both accessible and moving.
New Fiction: "Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type."

In the midst of a chaotic week, a man finds himself transfixed by a woman he sees from a distance. She is elegant, poised, and seems to exude a confidence that he lacks. Despite his reservations, he can't help but feel drawn to her, and he finds himself seeking her out at every opportunity.

As he gets to know her, he realizes that she is even more impressive up close. Her intelligence, wit, and charm leave him in awe, and he can't help but feel like he's in over his head. But the more time he spends with her, the more he realizes that she sees something in him that he doesn't see in himself.

They spend long afternoons exploring the city, talking about everything from politics to pop culture. She challenges him to broaden his horizons, to see the world in a new way. And he finds himself falling deeper in love with her every day.

But their relationship is not without its complications. He worries that he's not good enough for her, that he'll never be able to measure up to her standards. And she, in turn, struggles with her own insecurities, wondering if he truly sees her for who she is, or if he's just infatuated with the idea of her.

Despite these obstacles, they continue to see each other, drawn together by a force they can't quite explain. And as they navigate the ups and downs of their relationship, they come to realize that sometimes, the person who seems out of reach is exactly the one you're meant to be with.

In the end, they learn that love is not about being in the same league or having the same background. It's about finding someone who sees you for who you are, and who challenges you to be the best version of yourself. And sometimes, that person is the one who seems way out of your league - in other words, exactly your type.
New Fiction: "Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type."
The Decameron Project presents a new work of fiction, exploring the depths of human desire and the power of attraction. "Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type" is a story of love, longing, and the unexpected twists of fate that can bring two people together.
The protagonist, a young man whose life has been thrown into chaos by a recent accident, finds himself drawn to a woman on the 14th floor of his apartment building. Despite knowing that she is out of his league, he can't help but feel drawn to her, feeling a connection with her that he's never felt before.
As the story unfolds, the man learns more about the woman's past, her struggles, and her hopes for the future. Despite the odds stacked against them, they begin to form a bond that threatens to upend everything they thought they knew about themselves and each other.
However, as the man grapples with his own insecurities, he realizes that his feelings for the woman may be more complicated than he first thought. Is this attraction born out of true love, or is it a desperate attempt to fill a void in his own life?
As the two of them navigate their budding relationship, they discover that the path to true love is never easy. But with the help of some unexpected allies, they may just be able to overcome the obstacles in their way and find happiness in each other's arms.
This new work of fiction from the Decameron Project is sure to captivate readers with its poignant exploration of love, loss, and the human condition. With a gripping plot, complex characters, and a powerful narrative, "Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type" is not to be missed.
**Up Close, He Saw That She Was Way Beyond His League: In Other Words, Exactly His Type**

From the magazine's Decameron Project, a new short story that explores the complexities of attraction and relationships.

He had always been drawn to women who were out of his league. The kind of women who made him feel like he was punching above his weight, who made him wonder how he had managed to catch their eye. And yet, he couldn't help himself. There was something about the thrill of the chase, the excitement of not knowing if he would be able to land the girl, that drove him to pursue them with reckless abandon.

That's how he felt when he met her. She was beautiful, intelligent, and charming, with a quick wit and a sharp tongue that left him breathless. He was immediately smitten, and he knew that he had to have her.

As he got to know her better, he realized that she was everything he had hoped for and more. She was kind, compassionate, and had a deep sense of empathy that drew him in. But she was also guarded, with a wall around her that he couldn't quite penetrate.

Despite the challenges, he was determined to win her over. He showered her with attention, taking her on romantic dates and surprising her with small gifts. And slowly but surely, he began to chip away at her defenses.

But as he got closer to her, he realized that she was not just out of his league - she was way beyond it. She was a woman of substance, with a depth and complexity that he had never encountered before. And he was not sure if he was worthy of her.

As he struggled to come to terms with his feelings, he couldn't help but wonder if he was just fooling himself. Was he really the kind of man she deserved, or was he just a fleeting infatuation? And what did it mean to be "out of his league" anyway? Was it just a matter of physical attraction, or was it something deeper?

As he navigated the complexities of their relationship, he began to realize that the answer was not as simple as he had thought. Being "out of his league" was not just about physical attraction - it was about being worthy of someone's love and respect. And as he looked at her, he knew that he had a long way to go before he could truly say that he was worthy of her.

In the end, it was not just about winning her over - it was about becoming the kind of man she deserved. And as he looked into her eyes, he knew that he was ready to take on the challenge.
**Up Close, She Was Way Beyond His League: In Other Words, Exactly His Type**

From the magazine's Decameron Project, a new short story that explores the complexities of attraction and relationships.

He had seen her from afar, a vision of loveliness that had left him breathless. But it wasn't until he was standing right next to her, the soft glow of the bar's lighting illuminating her features, that he realized just how far out of his league she was. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds, her skin glowed with a radiant warmth, and her smile could light up a room. She was the kind of woman who turned heads, who commanded attention without even trying.

And yet, as he gazed into her eyes, he felt an inexplicable sense of connection. It was as if he had known her before, as if they shared a secret that no one else could understand. He felt drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, helpless to resist the pull of her charms.

As they talked, he discovered that they had little in common. She was a high-powered executive, with a sharp mind and a quick wit. He, on the other hand, was a struggling artist, working multiple jobs to make ends meet. But despite their differences, they found themselves lost in conversation, their words flowing easily as they laughed and joked together.

It was as if they had stumbled into a different world, one where the rules of reality no longer applied. In this world, anything was possible, and the boundaries of social class and status were irrelevant. All that mattered was the connection between them, the spark that had ignited the moment they met.

As the night wore on, he found himself falling deeper and deeper under her spell. He knew it was crazy, that he was in way over his head. But he couldn't help himself. He was drawn to her like a ship to a siren's song, helpless to resist the allure of her beauty and her charm.

And yet, even as he felt himself falling, he knew that it was doomed from the start. She was way beyond his league, a woman who could have anyone she wanted. He, on the other hand, was just a struggling artist, a nobody in the grand scheme of things.

But for one night, at least, he was willing to forget all that. He was willing to pretend that he was worthy of her, that he was the kind of man she deserved. And as they danced under the stars, their bodies swaying to the music, he felt a sense of joy and wonder that he had never felt before.

It was a fleeting moment, one that would soon be lost in the harsh light of reality. But for now, at least, he was content to bask in the glow of her presence, to let himself be swept up in the tide of her beauty and her charm.
**New Fiction: "Up Close, He Saw That She Was Way Beyond His League: In Other Words, Exactly His Type"**

From the magazine's Decameron Project, a new story of love, chance encounters, and the complexities of human connection.

It was one of those days when the universe seemed to be conspiring against him. The coffee shop was out of his favorite brew, the sun was hiding behind a thick layer of grey clouds, and to top it all off, he had just spilled ketchup on his new white shirt. As he walked down the street, feeling like the universe was mocking him, he saw her. She was standing outside a bookstore, laughing with the owner, her hair shining in the faint light that managed to seep through the clouds.

Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type. He had always been drawn to women who seemed unattainable, the kind who made him feel like he was climbing a mountain just to reach them. And this one was no exception. Her eyes sparkled with a wit that seemed to be a challenge, her smile was a whispered promise of secrets and adventures yet to come.

He felt a jolt of electricity run through his body as he approached her. It was as if the universe had finally decided to throw him a bone, to give him a chance to prove that he was more than just a clumsy, ketchup-stained mess. He took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and approached her.

"Hi," he said, trying to sound suave, but ending up sounding like a nervous teenager.

She turned to him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in his disheveled appearance. "Hi," she replied, her voice like a warm breeze on a summer day.

They talked for hours, walking through the streets, laughing and joking like they had known each other for years. He learned that her name was Sophia, that she was a writer, and that she had a passion for old books and good coffee. He told her about his job as a graphic designer, his love of hiking, and his secret fear of spiders.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the city, he knew that he was hooked. He was in trouble, the kind of trouble that came with falling deeply and irrevocably in love.

But as they stood outside her apartment, hesitating over whether to say goodnight or invite themselves in, he realized that he had no idea what the future held. Would Sophia be the one to finally make him feel like he was home, or would she be just another fleeting encounter in the city's endless parade of strangers?

As they stood there, the world seemed to slow down, and all that was left was the two of them, suspended in the uncertainty of the moment. And in that moment, he knew that he was willing to take the risk, to see where this chance encounter would lead.

"Want to grab coffee with me tomorrow?" he asked, his heart pounding in his chest.

Sophia smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'd love to," she said, and with that, the universe seemed to shift, aligning the stars in their favor.

From the magazine's Decameron Project, a new story of love, chance encounters, and the complexities of human connection.
**New Fiction: "Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type."**

From the magazine's Decameron Project, a new story that explores the complexities of attraction and relationships.

It was a night like any other at the dimly lit bar, the kind of place where strangers became acquaintances over a whiskey or two. Jack had been nursing his drink for hours, observing the other patrons with a mix of curiosity and disinterest. That's when he saw her – a vision of loveliness, sipping a cosmopolitan on the stool next to him. Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type.

As he struck up a conversation, Jack couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement. They talked about everything and nothing, their banter flowing effortlessly. Her name was Sophia, and she was intelligent, witty, and captivating. Jack was smitten, and as the night wore on, he found himself leaning in closer and closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

But as the hours passed, Jack began to realize that Sophia was more than just a pretty face. She was a puzzle, a complex web of contradictions that he couldn't quite unravel. She was confident and guarded, outgoing and introverted, all at once. Jack's fascination with her only grew stronger, and he found himself wondering if he was truly ready for someone like Sophia.

As the night drew to a close, Jack walked Sophia home, the cool night air filled with the promise of possibility. As they stood outside her apartment, he hesitated, unsure of what to do next. Sophia, sensing his uncertainty, leaned in and whispered, "I like a good challenge." Jack's heart skipped a beat as he realized that he was in over his head, but he couldn't help himself – he was already hooked.

Will Jack and Sophia's whirlwind romance continue to blossom, or will their differences tear them apart? Can Jack handle the complexities of Sophia's personality, or will he find himself lost in the depths of her eyes? Only time will tell, but for now, he's willing to take the risk.

This new story is part of the magazine's Decameron Project, a series of fiction pieces that explore the human condition in all its complexity. From the intricacies of relationships to the mysteries of the human heart, these stories delve into the depths of our experiences, revealing the truths that lie within.
**New Fiction: "Up Close, He Saw That She Was Way Beyond His League: In Other Words, Exactly His Type."**

As he stood in front of the sleek, modern bar, sipping on a whiskey and gazing out at the crowd, Jack felt a sense of detachment wash over him. It was as if he was watching himself from afar, observing the predictable rituals of the singles scene with a mixture of disdain and curiosity.

And then, like a mirage on a desert highway, she appeared. Tall, with porcelain skin and piercing green eyes that seemed to bore into his very soul. Her raven-black hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, and her crimson lips curved into a sly smile as she caught his gaze.

Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type. The kind of woman who could effortlessly command a room, who exuded an air of confidence and poise that left mere mortals like him in the dust.

For a moment, Jack felt a twinge of self-doubt. Who was he kidding, thinking he could hold a candle to this goddess? But as he gazed into her eyes, he saw something there that gave him hope - a flicker of mischief, a hint of playfulness that suggested she might just be willing to take a chance on him.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the inevitable rejection, and approached her. "Hi," he said, trying to sound suave and confident.

To his surprise, she smiled again, and this time, it was as if the sun had burst through the clouds. "Hi back," she said, her voice husky and confident. "What's your name?"

And just like that, Jack's night - and possibly his life - took a dramatic turn. The city outside receded, leaving only the two of them, poised on the precipice of something new and unknown.

As they talked, the hours melting away like ice on a summer's day, Jack realized that he was under her spell. She was a siren, luring him into uncharted waters with every word, every glance.

But he couldn't help himself. He was hooked, body and soul, on the thrill of the chase, the rush of adrenaline that came with pursuing the unattainable.

And as the night wore on, he knew that he would do anything to make her his. Anything to prove to himself, and to her, that he was worthy of her love.

Little did he know, however, that this was just the beginning of a journey that would take him to the very limits of his endurance, and push him to confront the darkest corners of his own heart.