roles

I walked downstream today, sure not to get my feet wet, hopping from stone to stone. I stopped on one - it seemed a comfortable place - not to built a house, mind you, but to rest a moment, amid the meaningless noise of the stream.

A metaphor, of course. I took a look at some blogs. Did I stop for a time?

I noticed her in passing. Almost went by without noticing her at all. She was engaged in conversation with some people - some *other* people - and I do have a sense of what's appropriate. So I tell myself. But something about her. So I stopped, at a discreet distance to, well, to watch her.

Yes. She seemed beautiful.

And I am filled with melancholy. I think of all the fine young people, so earnest, so intense, so intent in themselves, so cynical and unaware, so joyful and so laden with possibilities. And being me, I step out of myself, to observe myself observing her, them. What a picture. The hermit from his hilltop yearning to rejoin humanity.

Then I come back to myself, almost with a start. And I smile my small smile, ironic even when no one is watching. I look away from her – I’ve been staring – down now at my feet. I breathe in, deeply, as if I’ve made some decision – what? Shall I approach? Speak to her? Make some small witticism by way of introduction? But no, I’ve made no decision. It only seemed that way, because I breathed.

And I continue on my way. Perhaps I’m going to run? Perhaps to read? Or write? No one knows what I do. She, of course, has been unaware of my moment’s regard. If she noticed me in passing, I have no way of knowing.

Oh. Well, that's not entirely true. I left her a note. This note, in fact. To the Queen of Light and Joy - from the dark Knave of Despair.

What? Creepy? No. You don't understand. There's a context, you see. Really, it's not creepy. Really! It's a response to her profile. Oh god. Forget it. Why do I even try.

J