I sit on the bench alone.
It's barely half an hour past midnight, but the smoke is already starting to settle everywhere, clouding the sight like mist.
It's cold.
My breath is visible in the air, creating small clouds in the smoke-mist.
It has finally snowed and the ground is covered in white.
Soft, white, cold blankets.
Everywhere.
I feel so alone, sitting on my bench, even though it was my own idea to comfort here by myself.
I could have stayed inside in the music, the warmth.
But instead I'm out here.
All alone.
Sitting on a bench in the middle of the night.
I look up.
Watch the fireworks that keep going off everywhere.
Near and far, burning bright, colorful, painting the sky in different lights alongside the stars and the moon.
The beautiful silver moon, competing with the colorful fireworks for attention.
Or perhaps it doesn't care?
Just a silent watcher himself?
I keep looking.
The banging of the fireworks drums in my ears.
It's loud.
So loud.
But it's also beautiful.
I watch.
Sit silently.
And suddenly you are here.
I know it.
I can't see you.
Can't hear you.
Can't touch you, but I know.
Know you are standing in front of me.
I feel your presence.
I smile.
And close my eyes.
And finally, finally I see you.
Well, at least your shape.
Everything is in different shades of black behind my closed eyes.
And there is you.
Your shape.
I can't describe it in words.
Can't explain how your shape is different, a contrast from the rest of the black despite being black.
It's like glowing without light.
Frozen without coldness.
Black without darkness.
Impossible to explain in words.
I just know.
Feel it in the shift of the air.
The way the wind starts playing without coming close to me, without touching me.
I smile, brighter.
"Hello.", I say quietly, only loud enough for you to hear.
You smile.
I just know it.
Feel it in the way the shape of your face shifts slightly.
I know that you reply something but I can't understand it.
"You can sit here, if you want?", I ask instead, pointing to the space on the bench, right beside me.
You move.
Sit down next to me.
Draw your left knee up to your chest the way you always do.
Rest your head on it, your face turned towards me, your eyes observing me.
I stay silent and know that you also do.
I don't know what you are.
A spirit?
A figment of my imagination?
A forgotten fantasy?
I don't know.
And I don't care.
You're here.
With me.
The fireworks continue going off, filling the air with thunder.
Unconsciously I move, shift my seat on the bench.
Before I realize it, I let my open hand rest on my leg and I feel it.
Feel the moment you take it, your hand resting in mine.
It's cold.
It's warm.
Untouchable.
'It's only the wind' a logical, scientific part of my mind tells me.
But it's not.
It's your hand.
Holding mine.
I don't even know then I leaned onto you.
The scientific part of my mind yells again that I'm simply leaning sideways against the backrest of the bench, yells something about gravity and physics, but I ignore it.
I lean on your shoulder.
It's comfortable.
Calming.
It gives me stability.
I can feel that you shift slightly as well, supporting my weight on your shoulder.
Can feel that you start talking.
My stomach clenches.
I shut my eyes even tighter.
They start feeling wet.
Abruptly I sit up a bit.
"I'm sorry.", I murmur,"I can't see you. Can't hear your words. Can't touch you. I'm sorry."
And how does my heart long for you touch right then.
Longes to hold your hand fully, longes to hear you words, understand them, longes to kiss you.
But I can't.
Because to me your a ghost.
One I can't touch.
An especially close explosion of firework startles me and I open my eyes on reflex.
And suddenly your gone.
I'm alone.
Sitting on a bench out in the cold on New Year.
Watching fireworks.
Feeling stupid, talking to hallucinations, ghost, whatever.
Not even knowing if you are real.
If you were ever real.
Were you just a figment of imagination from the beginning?
I don't know.
I stand up abruptly.
Now, the larger part of my brain is yelling, trying to tell me that I hurt you feelings by standing up so abruptly, leaving so abruptly, but they grow quieter with every second the knowledge takes back it's place alongside reason and reality.
The knowledge that no one is there or ever was there.
I feel stupid.
Quickly I make my way back home, back inside.
Just away.
Cold tears prickle at my eyes but I don't cry.
Can't cry over a lost fantasy.
Can't cry over losing you.
Can't cry over being alone.
My hand still tingles slightly from holding yours.
Now know one holds it.
The wind blows a bit stronger, my feet crunching in the snow.
I walk alone.