Sometimes I Cry At Strangers.

Yesterday was Carmen’s goodbye Hafla. It was a bittersweet occasion, but I can’t blame that. I blame my cold and my weird stomach and my PMS. Because nothing makes me more unpredictable than a fever, stuffy nose, and two kinds of cramps.

But there was this guy. Rachel said he looked like her boss from the bookstore in Chicago. He was a large man, both in height and girth, with a frank, mobile face, and a bright red shirt. He was actively interested in what was going on with our sparkly party, and didn’t mind the loud music or the sudden interruption of a song for another one to come on. He was enjoying his time and taking it all in: Food, drink, music, people.

But then Kim was dancing to ‘Somewhere Under The Rainbow’. I glanced over my shoulder at the guy to see his reaction.  And was transfixed.

His eyes were closed, which surprised me. Who closes their eyes when there’s a belly dancer dancing?  He was mouthing along to the words, and he had the most perfect, blissful look on his face. He was transported, and whatever he was seeing on the inside of his eyelids was more joyous than even watching a belly dancer could be.

He was so absolutely in his own perfect heaven, and it was too beautiful and fragile for anything in this world.

I wondered who or what he was thinking of, because how much he loved them made me cry.

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