Nighttime Romance

The pillar of mist rose skyward as it grazed against the magenta-rimmed mouth, changing colour as the never-stationary lights of Khot passed through it – first glowing red, then shimmering green, then pulsating with purple, before finally dispersing into nothingness as it blended in with the rest of the cool night air. Perhaps in a more sympathetic world, it would have been mourned, paid respect to with obviously-untrue platitudes and succeeded gently, after an arbitrary socially-approved period of time. But, as Togsa knew, this was not a sympathetic world. Only a few seconds later, in exactly the same spot where the ex-pillar once lived, a twin rose up, climbing heavenward with the identical spreading V-shape of its predecessor, only the colours it captured were a little different – flashing a bright blue and green all the way up to its untimely end.

If you believed that the universe had somehow become kinder to inanimate objects since the unnoticed passing of the last mist-cloud, you’d have to be idealistic, naive, or both, because this next generation’s demise was just as unmourned as its forebear’s, and just as swiftly followed with the birth of a new doppelgänger, another young, brash type that would speed headily through the bright lights of life, before slowing down too late in an attempt to halt its inevitable obliteration.

Perhaps the world was gentler than he had imagined, Togsa thought, because short and pointless though their lives were, these moist apparitions often did not have to pass through life alone. No, they had companions – short, stout companions, yet companions nonetheless. Yes, sometimes they never met, one being born after the other died, but more often than not, they shared a small part of their lifetimes together, overlapping, reflecting light together, sharing a brief moment of comfort before one or the other met its proverbial maker.

Togsa laughed inwardly at the image: this was the first time that he had seen all of life reflected in the mist of inane chatter on a winter evening – except, he noted with a wryly bitter smirk, his own life had yet to have its promised stocky companion. Perhaps he was one of the unlucky few that would die before his own was born.

Togsa looked down from the mist-clouds at the creatures producing them – two girls, he noticed, their appearances not unlike the emissions they created. On the left, in shoes that rap-tapped against the chill pavement was the taller girl: slim, elegant, her clothes flashed bright block colours uncoordinatedly in the typical Khuiten style that seemed so popular these days, at least in places that Togsa frequented. Her face matched her clothes: her lips were painted a bright neon purple and her long, black lustrous hair (probably a wig, Togsa thought) flowed freely in an ironic nod to a simpler, less tasteful time.

The girl on the right (and consequently, to Black Hair’s left), on the other hand, looked almost nothing like her companion, and yet Togsa found it difficult to look away from her. Yes, she was also beautiful, as is to be expected in this day and age, but that wasn’t it – there was something more about her. Togsa couldn’t quite put his finger on what – perhaps it was the way the sides of her eyes creased when she smiled, as she did frequently with every passing comment Black Hair made, perhaps it was her slightly awkward gait, which swayed from side to side with every step, or perhaps it was her frame, slightly short, slightly plump, slightly squat – but there was something that made her more appealing, more human than her friend. Togsa smiled warmly to himself as he looked at her squatly walking awkwardly and creasing her eyes with every mildly-amusing joke she heard.

For the first time today, Togsa was in love.

He watched her short, green hair sway in the gentle night breeze as both the girls walked closer to him. Her lips seemed only lightly coloured, and that too in a subtle dark blue. Her clothes, unlike her friend’s, only changed colour gradually, and when they did so, only changed from one calm colour to another. First a faint red, then green, then blue, then back to red. Her shoes, unlike Togsa’s own, were completely unilluminated, just a pair of matte maroon foot-shaped coverings. Togsa was most fascinated with them – it was the first time that he had seen such unadorned foot-adornings. He watched her feet rise, move a little to the side, and then fall again with a gentle thud as they hit the ground, again, and again, and again and – they stopped.

Her feet lay apart, in a walking stance, her right leg bent behind her left as though she were about to take another step, but neither foot moved. Both maroon shoes remained in contact with the chilly ground. Togsa looked up, and at her face.

She was looking at him. Her navy lips remained sealed, and her hazel eyes looked straight at him. Togsa looked back into them, holding his breath as he heard his heart pounding in the silence that had suddenly enveloped them. She remained completely still, as did Togsa, the only part of either of them moving was her green hair gently waving in the breeze.

Togsa felt his lips twitch. At the left corner at first, then the right, as the muscles in his cheeks slowly tugged at them in their best imitation of a smile.

In the distance, he swore he saw her lips move too, perhaps a little quiver at one end that coincided with a feeling in Togsa’s stomach like someone had put a FizzPill in it. Was this it? Could it be that after all this time, someone was interested in knowing Togsa – and not Togsa the delivery boy or Togsa the dancer, but Togsa the human?

Her head jerked away and her right leg lifted, easing the tension that had built in her calves. She faced her friend, turning her head as far right as it would go, and her friend reciprocated. All Togsa could see of her head now was just her green hair, which still swayed mockingly in the breeze. They quickened their steps, huddled together, and rapidly escaped Togsa’s vision, as he stood staring at the brick wall in front of which he almost had love.

For the first time today, Togsa was heartbroken. He thought she could have been the one, she was just imperfect enough for him.

He looked down, closed his eyes and sighed, feeling his shoulders drop in disappointment. An image of her walking away ran through his mind, repeatedly.

He opened his eyes, saw the straight lines and monolithic structure of the edge of the pavement he stood on, and looked up.

Once again, he felt his lips twitch, except this time the smile it led to was voluntary, controlled and familiar. He looked at the street ahead of him, and remembered why he had come. Suddenly grinning like a maniac, he walked purposefully down the pavement he only seconds ago stared at wistfully, his boots flashing white every time they touched the ground.

It was time for some fun.