The Stranger

Strange party. Eerily quiet. No music. No words. A few balloons. They sit around hushed tables under off-white weather beaten old tents and at dusk just after the rain. A few teenage girls stand apart from them, next to an open door car. I’m waiting a few cars down. Suspicious. I feel their glancing curious eyes. Friend or a freak? I collect my order from the nearby restaurant and slowly drive by the larger group; gingerly passing by the quiet tables and their carelessly parked cars, their soundless dances and their odourless food. She stands out. Stares. There’s a dawning shadow of a smile. It disappears at the realization. I mourn the silence.