We Don't Belong

She finds you in a comedy club, on stage, microphone in hand, a smile plastered on your face and the crowd hanging on every word you say. You are loud and crude, and for awhile she thinks the storm outside could provide better entertainment and company, until you look her way, your eyes meeting hers by accident, skimming passed as you overlook your adoring crowd. It makes her sit up a little straighter in her seat, makes her take a sudden interest in you, because for such a perverse, obnoxious man, your eyes are intense and deep and made her heart pound for a split second.

By the time your show is over, her face is red and her cheeks are sore from laughing so much. Your humor grew on her, and the way you were able to make your body act as though it had a will of its own, fighting against your mind, blew her away. Her personal favorite was the skit you did where you dragged your own supposed unconscious body around - one would have thought there really had been an invisible man beside you, your arm draped across his shoulders, your body limp against his as he trudged around on stage until, finally, he dumped you near the stairs.

She gets her coat and leaves the club, the rain outside something she can overlook now that she has something better to think about, brighter thoughts to get her through the rest of the long, boring and lonely night ahead.

---

She decides to frequent the club, hoping to catch another of your performances by chance. She never did catch your name, and she's too shy to ask around about you, to see if anybody in the club knows of the tall, gangly man with big teeth and charming smile who has that almost magical ability to make the crowd go wild with laughter. So she comes at the end of every week, around the same time on the same day, hoping to perhaps see you perform again.

Time flies and days pass and you don't come again. The word on the street is your name is being written in stars and lights - and she knows this wonderful new actor walking down the hall of fame has to be you, because nobody makes people swoon quite the way you do.

She stops coming to the club and starts searching for your face on posters and billboards, and in time she finds it. And your name, so common and bland, is something she has trouble uttering, for her heart skips beats at the mere thought of speaking your name aloud.

(but she wishes life were like the movies, because then she'd say your name three times over and you'd appear before her - just for her - and she could finally give you a piece of her mind for stealing her heart away so suddenly and not even knowing it.)

---

She takes shelter from another storm in a small cafe that smells strongly of brewing coffee and fresh muffins. Shedding her drenched coat, she takes a seat on a stool at the counter and orders a cup of coffee to ward the chills away. The pudgy waitress smiles and nods to her, then starts to busy herself with the trivial order.

"It's pretty bad out there," a man says from beside her, propped up on his elbows and leaning over a newspaper.

"You could say that again," she scoffs, rolling her eyes and brushing her wet hair out of her eyes, tucking the tangling locks behind one ear.

"It's pretty bad out there," he repeats, and she furrows her brow as she looks to the side. He wears sunglasses and a baseball cap, but there's something familiar, and she knows that crooked smile as you looks toward her.

"Yeah," she stammers, looking away and to her coffee as the waitress slides it across to her. She wonders if you know she knows who you are, and judging from the smile-turning-grin on your lips that dares her to confirm her suspicions, she assumes you do.

"You look familiar," you murmur.

"So do you," she blurts out.

"Have we met?"

And she wants to tell you that, yes, you have - your eyes met for an instant nearly a year ago, but how many other gazes have you stolen since? Hers are just another pair of green eyes you will likely forget come morning.

"No," she tells you, "I don't think we have."

(because, she knows, it's best if the two of you remain strangers - you in lights and her just another face in the crowd.)