There can be a certain calmness to solitude, the comfort that is not easily found anywhere else. But moments of solitude can be difficult to find while rays of sunshine grace the earth with their warmth, and so many who seek such comfort turn to the night.
Dark nights are often seen as sad, intimidating, and lonely, but a warm summer night, interrupted only by the warm wind and the noises of traffic, in a familiar spot, not too far from home, can hardly be frightening. A lone streetlight a few metres away floods the area in a dim orange-yellow light, offering a familiar comfort. It is hard to believe that anything out of the ordinary has ever happened here.
It's still well before midnight when a figure, features lost in the low light, leans against the wall in this exact spot, sliding down it slowly until he is seated. Here he rests his head against the wall and finds what he cannot find elsewhere. The nightly noises lull him into relaxation, and he enjoys every second of it. He is young and has arrived at the final stages of his adolescent years, although he is slightly below average in height. While he may be perceived as a happy soul, who tries his hardest to make those he speaks to feel warm and welcome, he carries a heavy burden of sadness and loneliness in his core. These nights of solitude help him find the lost stars in his eyes.
If you've ever taken the time to look at the moon and imagine how many strangers have seen exactly what you are seeing, how many have thought what you are thinking, you know of the fascination that comes with the moon, that comes at night. The stars shine bright, the distant planets shine brighter, but the moon shines closest. You do not need to be an expert in all things celestial to regard this constant guardian, watching over you in all stages of life.
But there are times when the moon's pale light cannot dry tears of sadness. The girl whose black hair cascades down her back before stopping abruptly at her waist finds no comfort in the light seeping in through her window, she feels as though a weight on her chest is slowly suffocating her. She plays with the idea of slipping into the night through her window in her mind, her dark room's walls giving her a claustrophobic feeling as they have seemingly absorbed all her past sadness and anxiety like sponges, now saturated and overflowing. She makes the decision easily, landing on the dead grass below with a slight thud.
Half a year ago she would not have known how to continue her journey from here, she would have walked around aimlessly until sleep started pulling her into the realm of dreams, but now she finds her bare feet, shoes left behind, guiding her, almost without her mind's command, to a familiar spot not too far from home. The ground is still warm from the past day's sun as she walks though the empty streets and her heart begins to beat faster and faster the closer she gets.
The light is often seen as more positive and the dark as more negative, the dawn seen as something fresh and new, a new day. But is there not also a fresh, positive air at night? Something to look forward to? Maybe we could learn more of the nocturnal wonders that are presented to us on a silver platter, yet ignored by most, if we humans were not bound to the day by our diurnal tendencies.
Absorbed into the depths of his own mind, the feeling that the world has disappeared entirely, entirely, that is, with him as the only exception, lingers over him. His back against the cool stone wall is the only thing keeping him grounded, the only thing preventing his soul from escaping into the endlessness of the galaxy.
A sudden cold on his right hand startles him out of his thoughts, and he reflexively pulls his hand away, opens his eyes and turns to look at his hand. There is nothing touching his hand now, but only inches away there is a pale hand, skin glowing, reflecting the light of the moon and the artificial light of the streetlamp.
"I'm sorry," he says, his eyes leaving the hand and traveling up to look into the crouching figure's eyes. Her dark hair has fallen in front of her face and she hastily brushes it back with her hand. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"No," she breaks his gaze, her blue eyes now looking at the floor. "I shouldn't have crept up on you. I'm sorry." She repositions herself until she is mimicking his pose, her back against the wall. She must be the same age as him, if not a year younger. "I hope I'm not bothering you," she says, looking straight ahead instead of at him.
"Don't worry," he turns his head to look at her and smiles despite the fact that she can't see. "You're not." After a moment's hesitation he continues; "Are you looking for something?"
She shakes her head as a slight breeze tugs lightly at her hair. "Nothing… just company. You make me feel less alone."
Most nights, are a time just for him. No one else. He likes being alone, not isolated, but- on his own. But this time, this time he can make an exception. Without looking at her, his hand reaches for hers, and when he finds it, he places his hand onto hers. It is smaller than his, and cold despite the warmth of their surroundings.
She smiles at this kind gesture, tantalizing as it may be to know that his gestures, the ones directed at her in any case, will never be more than kind, will never be more than friendly. She feels his eyes on her and she turns instinctively. When their eyes meet, he smiles and closes his right eye briefly in a wink, attempting at making her smile, a smile which she gladly offers him. Then, as if the sky were calling their names, their heads turn back to it, away from one another, until she falls asleep next to him, her head resting softly on his shoulder.