three am.

twenty one percent.

She said they'd do crazy things, and perhaps she was right. Maybe it was crazy that she faced his window at three am on a Tuesday. Maybe it was crazy that he immediately opened the window to his bedroom to let her in. Maybe it was crazy that at that moment, their eyes locked-- the ribbons of joy and recklessness weaving a pattern between them as yet another three am started.

her: now this

him: is insane

They laughed at that; and they should have. They soon realized that that was a funny thing to say, for there was nothing much crazy that went on.

She went, they sat, and looked. That was it.

her: can you see me?

him: not really. but, I think I can see the moon.

her: yeah so?

him: you hold it in your eyes.

her: oh, you see my eyes then..

him: you sound dismayed. why?

her: my eyes, they don't lie

him: and that's a bad thing because?

her: I do.

Somehow, though his vision be obscured, he found her hand, and kept it in his.

him: and that's okay.

him: you're human.

They moved around so that their backs were to his bed and they were side by side. With their hands still intertwined and their shoulders touching, they just sat in the darkness together. Not saying anything, not making a sound. And in his dim room, they tried to find each other.