Big Dump

(Note: With the extremely low frequency of updates, this story cannot be more disappointing and dissatisfying.)

Allie

The lights after a few glasses were hurting my eyes a little, but the music was nice, different torrents of melodies curling around each other in their rhythm, diving and coming up again. The glasses were clanking and silverware sparkled, napkin rings were tossed with elegant flicks of wrists, and it was pleasant, infinitely pleasant to be an outsider in all this. My detachment was taken for shyness and so I was not burdened with too many conversations. For the most part I was sitting at one of the tables and watching the dancing couples, following Allie with my eyes as she passed from one partner to another.

It became apparent that she was conscious of me, and I could not think of anything else but of standing up and asking her to dance. She agreed wordlessly, with a small smile, and it felt satisfyingly appropriate to put my hand on her waist and draw her to me. I noticed to her that the music was nice and she brushed my arm with her hand, as if smoothing out the wrinkles on my jacket.

We danced and I studied her hand in mine, small and delicate, soft, so comfortably succumbed to me. Her shoulders rounded and open to the air; the way her hair curved against her cheeks; smooth skin, glowing in the soft yellow light. I led us into the dance with a drunken feeling of paradox. It was, perhaps, a window into another life, one of my possible lives, and I was staring into it from the outside, in an afternoon breeze. Some other me was infatuated with this woman, his ghostly hands guiding mine, his feelings tightening in my chest.

I was so immersed in my thoughts that I did not notice Allie’s hand sliding down, resting on the small of my back. She pressed and my body instinctively curved, and the ghost disappeared with a cold shiver. When I raised my head and looked her in the eye she was smiling, mischievously, and I thought of Thom.

“Just whom are you in love with?” she asked, but the voice was not hers, a bit lower. It seemed that I wasn’t leading anymore, or perhaps we were just standing, and I thought that I saw Thom’s eyes in the crowd, and a flash of his hair as he was slithering through the people. Colin was there, too, only he was dressed oddly, in the old clothes he used to wear when we were younger. I thought it was strange of him, but he disappeared into the crowd, and I left Allie hastily to find either them; the people stepped aside, letting me through. At last I came up with a familiar face, but after a moment’s thought I recognized myself in enormous mirror, and I stood looking at myself for several seconds.

***
I had been following Allie for several weeks, ever since I intercepted a postcard from Thom to her. I had found the windows of her flat and watched the lights in her rooms at night, and I imagined her at her desk, or reading, or dining, or falling asleep and waking up with a start, perhaps sensing my presence just outside. She took walks on Saturday mornings in the park, with me in the distance; I watched her figure disappear and come out of the fog numerous times, every time afraid I might lose her. It occurred to me that she was my indirect bond with Thom, and without her I would drift away. So I ran after her in the fog, and I was unsure where we would end up, and sometimes I couldn’t see my way, but before I would give up – a dim figure would appear on the horizon, and I’d lurch after it.