Shot in the dark

Hello, you.

I see you slip in, trying to hide in the shadows, ducking your head when I turn to scan the crowd, hoping I didn't see you. I silently chuckle to myself at the slight absurdity of this charade.

You want to watch me, to see what I'm up to, but don't want to speak to me or let me know you're there.

Yet I know. I feel that sensation, as if smelling burnt ozone after a storm, and I know you're nearby. All I have to do is stand still and then I see you, slinking or ducking out of sight.

I must say, it's amusing and powerful all at once, to know that I know but that you don't want me to know that you have to know how I am and what I'm doing.

I sip from a glass of water, I watch the singer nurse the microphone, I feel the pulsing beat radiating from the speakers, I smell the cigarette smoke in the air. And I know you're three tables back, with your hands in your pockets and your eyes on me. You didn't come here for the music. Not tonight.

When the band takes a break I mingle with the crowd, conversing easily with anyone who wants to talk. A pretty girl in a halter dress fumbles on her hem and falls into you. Everyone sees the commotion and she is apologizing profusely, begging you to let her buy you a drink to make up for her lack of grace. She thinks you're cute, and if you play nice, you might have just made a new accidental friend.

So. Do you move on, learn her name, enjoy the night, and see what the future holds for you... Or do you slink back into the night, trying to figure out what happened between us, heading home alone, determined to find out where I'll be next?

I feel amused pity. You look up and see me watching you. To see what you're going to do next. The difference is, I shake my head at you, turn and walk away. I don't care which choice you make, I will not follow you to see what you do with your life. Take her to the bar or walk out the door, it doesn't matter to me. I'm not here to watch you.