Lonely People
A Short Story
We're all lonely people. We send these shouts into the void in the simple way we break our monotony every once in a while. And there are some of us just broken enough to hear these shouts like kites flying in the wind, their colors blazing against the pale sky and yet so small in the distance. I took a sip of my coffee, opting for no milk this morning because for some reason I was craving the punch of bitterness as the sun came up painting the sky purple. I resented the sun for taking so long sometimes because it wasn't until the sun awoke that the rest of us felt as if we had permission to be alive. Scientifically, we were slaves to the sun, owing it every part of our very existence and obeying its strict laws. I loved our humble dictator because the sun was the most reliable lover in the universe. He always showed up when he said he would. He never stood me up. He never broke my heart because the sun and I had a mutual understanding of our temporary commitment to one another. I was never disappointed when he left me because I always knew he would. And yet I longed to wander when he wasn't around, almost as though I was betraying him with the lust for darkness as the stars shone out over my head. I craved the chill in the air and the wet grass or the way I felt in charge when the sun was sleeping.
I waited until my mug had only droplets of coffee, too small to drink, and I walked out the door. Today, the air was crisp and dry and the wind blew just enough to make my scarf worth it. I walked down the same street I always walked down and smiled at the same elderly man I always smiled at. He sat there trying to light his cigarette as usual. It occurred to me that I never saw him light it successfully. I didn't know his name, but in my mind he was a Tony. "Silly Tony," I'd think to myself "don't you know those things will kill you?" But of course I knew he didn't care. This felt like a slightly extraordinary morning and it was. That's the day I met you. With your crimson hair and your pale grey eyes, you charmed me like the moon on a cloudless night begging me to run across the street barefoot because I could. You held me with the warmth of your sun colored hair, trying to keep me safe from the sleep that took me hostage as my eyelashes fluttered on your cheek when they closed. You looked at me like you'd never seen something so intriguing and I looked at you, well I don't know how I looked at you. And then you were gone.
You flew away into the sunset because that's where the world took you and I let go because that's the way things are when you have plans. You were the escape from monotony. You were what convinced me to fall when the only things I feared were heights and love. And you caught me until you couldn't anymore. And you left your scar though I know that was never your intention. We were like a flame, bright and elegant but so easily put out. But isn't it kind how the sun still rose and lit up the day even without you? Isn't it kind how the old man remained relentless in his attempt to light his cigarette? Isn't it kind how the road I walked down every morning remained paved in your absence? Because it gave me permission to live. And I no longer resented the sun for taking so long to rise. And I began to wonder how on earth we could all be lonely people, when we all saw the same sun every day. I know wherever you are you see it too. Every day. Maybe we're not so lonely after all.
