And...

And we thought things like that only happened in movies…and in Paul Simon songs. We smiled…warily, nostalgically…awkwardly trying to decide if it was okay to reach out and touch each other as our respective groups of companions…eyeing us knowingly… faded into the cool darkness of the crowded club and we were, as far as we were concerned, alone together.

And we hugged…self-consciously…the contours of our bodies fitting together the way they used back when we were in love, and smiled at each other looking for…and finding…the embers of affection that remained after the fire of passion had been quenched by time and circumstance, betrayal and disappointment.

And we danced…the murmur of the crowd and the thunder of music being too loud to allow for words…the way we used to when our hearts were in sync and our longing was freely shared and gloriously intoxicating. We danced and smiled and forgot, for a moment, that we were no longer lovers…no longer even friends.

And we kissed…tenderly, wistfully…in the middle of the club, in the middle of the dance…drinking softly of the sweet wine of each other’s familiar lips…and, for a moment, we were more than friends again, we were more than even lovers again.

And then the moment passed.

And we separated…our fingertips lingering in an eternal instant of electric communion before we moved back into the cocoons of our respective groups of companions and let the crowd sweep us away from each other.

And we glanced over our shoulders…our eyes twinkling with golden sparks of nostalgia, humidity, forgiveness, and resignation…and then let the night take us back to our separate worlds.