Welcome to the A to Z Challenge! I’ve been doing this for a decade, and I have many past A to Zs you can read if you’re interested in a longer story. This is going to be a continuous story, so you want to make sure you start with the Theme Reveal! (But I’m going to keep the posts short, so it’s easier to keep up.) I’m notoriously bad at reading other blogs, even though I love it when I do, so make sure to leave your link in the comments so I can hop over to see what you’re up to, even if you aren’t participating in A to Z! But you should definitely sign up and participate!

C is for Concert

Amelia: March 27th

The house lights are going down when someone slides past the other people at the theater. The seat next to me has been empty, and I won’t lie–there’s a part of me that has wondered who the stranger that picked up the ticket was. The person’s name was Dana, which didn’t tell me a whole lot.

But then the music starts, and I barely spare a glance to the stranger who is sitting next to me. I’m crying at the first notes, and I decide trying to stop them would be a vain attempt. The beautiful music moves me, the story moves me, and given that I’m sitting here alone instead of with my fiance, well…there is just no way I can help from crying. I came prepared with tissues, but it feels good to let the tears just fall silently down my face.

The silent tears keep falling throughout the first act, and as the lights come up for the intermission, a hand reaches over and hands me a handkerchief. My eyes find the tall man sitting next to me. He is handsome, with short, dark hair falling in waves, brown eyes, and a beard that’s just starting to go gray.

“Thanks,” I say, taking the handkerchief. The cloth is soft and feels clean, though the thought crosses my mind that I don’t know where this cloth has been that I’m about to press against my face. And there’s no way I can blow my nose into it, is there?

“You’re welcome,” he says, and his voice is deep. “You can keep it.”

“Thanks,” I say again.

He doesn’t pry, and for that, I’m grateful. He smiles, and then says, “I’m going to go grab a drink. Can I get you something? A bottle of water? Something stronger?”

I am surprised at his gallantry. A handkerchief is one thing, but I know how expensive the drinks are at the theater. Still… “A bottle of water would be great.”

He smiles, and moves off. By the time he comes back, the lights are dimming for the second act, and I realize that I don’t even know his name.