In the obsidian blackness of the night, I wander, seemingly without purpose. The casual onlooker would not remember me for I am easily forgotten to those who do not know the real me. I pass many people, old and young, beautiful and bland. They mean nothing; I am searching for just one.
In the harsh neon lights of the town I now find myself in, I see her, standing there, waiting. For me? I know she will deny it, say she waits for no one and yet, she's clearly waiting.
I stand in the shadows watching her. Her perfection and immense beauty stills me, well most of me. I feel the pull of her gravity and I wonder what it would be like to fall into it completely.
I see her eyes.... wow, she pissed off and yet still beautiful, even in her anger.
Then a man and I growl low in my throat as this fool approaches my delicious vision. His hands reach for her as though he is worth her touch and for a moment, there seems more than anger in her eyes. I catch it on the breeze, mixed with her own scent and her perfume; it's the hint of fear.
Stepping in perfect silence from the shadows, I cross to her as his hands take an uninvited liberty. She yells, strikes out at him and I reach her side as he is about to react.
A hushed silence falls over us all and I extend my hand slowly for her to take. He steps back, he knows me, he is one of the few to know my truth and he apologises rapidly, falling over his words as he runs away.
She begins to question me, 'where have I been? Why am I late?'
