My age. In your tailored jeans and aubergine long sweater. Your pretty hair a "don't give a damn" length. Drinking martinis with a well turned out man. Laughing and talking.
There was a fellow sitting alone by the band. Nicely dressed. Generally happy. But one day too long and five hundred miles too far away from home. A bit sad despite the verve of the room.
On your way toward the door, you tossed your arms around the fellow sitting alone. A hug and a big smile. The slightest brush of your lips over his cheek. Then you were out the revolving door and into the cold night. Taking all of the fellow's alterity with you.
Thank-you. Whoever you were, last night.