She flitted and flirted from table to table. Never mine though. We never crossed paths, not once. I always found myself on the same stool at the same table in this window-rich retro salmon and white diner. But she never once came to my stool. But today was the day. The sun was moving a little slower this evening.

Then it happened. The sun rose and someone made her turn. So fast that I really don’t think she noticed me there, but once we hit there was no way she couldn’t. One of those gut-deep feelings came over me, and undoubtedly her. Our paths had crossed, stomach to stomach. How long? How long would we be there together? My gaze made hers, never-failing. Our bodies so close our entire lives were revealing themselves to one another. This was the one. We were the one. No one could break us apart. Her head came closer to mine. Just slowly my body shifted, and as it did her face lengthened. Her profile to mine, our lips just touched and held. From our toes to our nose we were together, saturation decreasing at the tops of our skulls. We needed more! All of us had to be one. That line, across both of our faces, the brink of unity, needed to be abolished. All or none. We knew that was how we had to be. 

Then all of a sudden, something made her flit once more. Her face contorted, her body shrank away from mine, and she was gone. Across the room and out of my life. As the sun set, I came to fall as well. Never to return to the light while joining into a deepening darkness.