Embraced by Heartbreak and (Some) Joy

I make my way through the clamouring night. My eyes are misshapen and they hurt when I try to focus. I enter the building and find that I am safe. There is no need for vigilance, I am not under attack.

He is here. He is my crush, but only from a distance. She is here, too. She walks to him and fills his vision. He caresses her hip and kisses her mouth. I remain remarkably calm while my heart breaks.

They laugh and banter, and see only each other. I walk past them. I am mist. Outside affords me some space, and the cool night is gentle. I decide not to leave.

I pass them again on my way to my seat. They are as I left them.

She is in her twenties. He and I are in our forties. I don't like this maths. I'm reasonably sure they've not been a couple for very long. If I could steal him away from her, I would. I have no ethical quandary here.

He is alone. I walk to him and fill his vision. His face exudes a multitude of expressions, mostly confusion. He doesn't seem to want to run away, though, like my crushes usually do (!) - maybe I'm getting less freaky with age. I don't want this moment to end, it may never happen again. But I don't want my presence to become oppressive, and I want to be gone before she returns. So we talk only briefly, then I leave.

I make my way home, through the open night. My vision is clear and my eyes are alive. Pieces of me, seemingly irreversibly melted, are reforming and rejoining. My structure is becoming less amorphous. There is some joy to be had from this.