she watched him intently. eyes glazed like donuts, wide like plates full of dessert. she was watching him so hard she wasn't really seeing. a thin film danced across the top of her vision, pulling the curtains shut. but still she stared through mascara-laden lashes.
what's that?
a tear.
single, smoothly travelling down her cheek. she didn't notice it to wipe it away. she was listening so hard the licks pressed at her heart, each individual note reverberating her internal organs. shaking her up. tying her down. lifting her over the little crowd. she looked and listened. abandoned every other sense. those fingers calloused with late night rehearsals; that ear tuned by the pencil across paper of insomniac-sponsored songs. eyes closed and half-smiling, he played and she dreamed that it was for her. that the lights would fade out and there would be just too spotlights left, illuminating them, a pair, and magnetising them, pulling them together.
but the elevator reached the top floor and with a jarring ping someone came running out, with a dream to explode. and she heard the voice at the back of her head quietly and incessantly mocking her. shutting her eyes just briefly she gave a quick laugh. at herself. in a similar tone to that of the primary schoolers who used to tease her.
and suddenly the thin film had dissipated and the spotlights had dimmed.