There was a full moon tonight. It was dazzling. IS dazzling. What enchanted me most about it was that I wasn't the first to notice it, Tom was.
We'd just finished work and were walking home to my house; a pleasant walk in the cold light of day and one which I adored. I knew the streets around my town so well that strolling to and from work was always more of a joy than a chore.
Smooth sky complimented the rocky pavement, a path worn out by the constant flow of schoolchildren. Front gardens belonged to happy families, overgrown plants spilling from their confinement onto the pavestones which used the greenery as a shield to mask its many grey faces. Yes, the walk home was beautiful.
We stopped outside my house, standing so close I felt the goosebumps on my arm brush against his leather jacket.
"I can't do this," I thought.
"The moon's wonderful," Tom said. "If only I had my new photography equipment here with me now.." He mused.
"Did you know that a full moon completely afftects your mood?" He asked.
I shook my head.
"Yeah, like, you can become a completely different person when the moon is full. It's supposed to aggravate you."
I thought back through my day: I had broken a few glasses at work in the pub, more than normal. Usually it takes a full on mishap for one to smash, today I simply clasped the things and they gave under the pressure.
"There's also more blood running to your head," Tom mused.
I thought harder about work. One particular customer had refused to be served by me, he found me rude and blunt.
Blood began pulsing through my veins at an alarming rate. How did Tom know these things? How was he so full of infinate wisdom at twenty years of age? I could kiss him. I'm going to kiss him.
"Anyway, goodnight, man," He said, so casually I could hardly bare it.
I stuttered and all that came out of my mouth was a hoarse whisper: "Yeah, man. G'night."
I watched him walk off down my road, cigarette in one hand and his pride firmly in the other. I had missed my chance.
Suddenly the sky looked cracked and jilted, the pavement broken, the way it had always been and they way I always failed to notice.
I was so embarrassed, shamed, torn. The blood was still racing through me, pumping so fiercely I thought I might murder someone.
I took a last deep breath before entering my house and suddenly felt a sense of freedom, like I was grateful that Tom had walked away.
Love has many ways of trapping a person. It can dress itself up as majestically as it pleases, but underneath, love will always be a grey, lonely, ubiquitous feeling.