Creative Non-Fiction
Glances Touch
Silent secrets spilled over colorful drinks
Going to a bar by yourself is a silent acknowledgment that you prefer the company of drunk, loud strangers over that of your own thoughts. You couldn’t spend another night having yourself as your only company. The silence hurts.
The music here is loud enough to make you deaf, and you wish it would, if only it could keep your thoughts quiet. It’s not just the noise, however, that offers more comfort than your apartment’s empty fridge and overflowing garbage: it’s the eyes.
When you’re surrounded by humans, chances are looks will stumble awkwardly onto each other. In that fleeting shared glance, souls light up.
Eyes can’t keep their mouths shut, and so letting someone listen to their careless rambling inevitably surrenders critical intel to a potential foe. In that brief moment, though, souls shake hands, nod at each other’s existence. Yes, we are the same, you and I.
And, in a second, it’s all gone.
After that, only the encounter’s ethereal remnants are left behind, haunting the space between you and the stranger; both willing to forget this intimate blink of time has ever happened if the other party seems to believe remembering it is inappropriate.
