Neopolitan Dreams

Here is a slightly dramatised/romanticised recount of last night:

She walked onstage as gentle as a falling autumn leaf- unassuming and gorgeous in her finely honed act of vulnerability. Her little red bow shone with the reflected glory of stage lights. It struck him across the room like an icy dart to each eye. Then she sang some songs and stole his heart. The room was silent, save for the flutter of the hummingbirds that carried his heart away.

If she needed a coin for her laundry, he would buy her a washing machine. If she wanted to change the setlist, he would start her a new band. If she wanted to have a morbidly uplifting conversation with a dead person, he would die for her. No one else in the room existed. She was singing to him. Her awkward dance moves were for him. He wanted to just give her a big hug and take her away from the dark mystery of the world away from the stage.

Later that night, she was at the bar. Their eyes met and they talked. His friends and he took a photo and they awkwardly requested her penmanship. His very soul jolted with each curve of the pen. She only came to his shoulder and was so young it shocked him slightly. He bought her a drink and they got talking about her music. She had just finished school and he was nearing the end of university. She was going to England and he just wanted to get out. She nervously scratched her left wrist as he bought a round of Cokes.

“I remember you from the TV. I didn’t know people still existed after that,”
“Yeah I was supposed to die…”

It was his turn to laugh nervously. The hummingbirds could not carry the weight of his heart as the reality of the chasm between fantasy and reality opened before them. Animals of such small wingspan could simply not traverse such a distance. The hummingbirds faltered in their charming flight path and his heart dropped like a suicidal stockbroker. His friends had left him 24 minutes earlier. He had to salvage the moment…

“Thanks for the Coke,”

She stood up from the bar. As she turned her head, he just caught the scent of her hair. It hit him like seaspray- fleeting but refreshing. And the night carried her away like the autumn leaf she would always be in his dreams. What could have, or should have been, simply did not matter to the world.

He would see her at the next concert.