Fallen

Meeting A Stranger

I was there.

Dancing, drinking, laughing. Trying my best to not think twice. The dance floor was my haven, a safe place, an escape.

Yet I felt empty. It felt lacking. Someone was lacking. I missed having a hand on my skin as I danced. I missed the heat. I missed the want I felt that quenched my thirst for acceptance, albeit for a while.

Did I miss a particular person, or would anyone do. I'm still not sure.

I went out, lit a cigarette, took a drag and stood beside our table. A table many others chose to borrow. I didn't mind.

Then he caught my eye. Pretty eyes. Long hair kept up in a bun. Eyes that spoke of interest. Eyes that spoke of enchantments that once again got my cheeks to hear up. Slightly.

His eyes asked permission, to keep his beer on my table. His eyes peeked up at me, alight with interest. Probably mirroring mine. He was my type. Probably just as fucked up. He looked the part.

He glanced up again, and we made conversation. I grew shy. This man made me shy. He bought me and my friends drinks. And somehow found ways to keep me shy and blushing.

So unlike how I usually am with fickle men. I was interested.

But just as fast as we'd talked, the night came to an end.

A misunderstanding took him far away from me. By the time I realised, I was too drunk to care. My mind at ease while dancing. So I let him walk away.

I still don't know his name.