Kyalin: Alone, together

1. A night out alone, together

*Warning: Explicit sex, recreational cannabis use. Otherwise, this is a wholesome tale for mature audiences.

***

It was early spring and the days were getting longer, though what was left of the winter cold still bit the night air. Bundled in a blue coat, Kya strolled along the boulevard of a quaint neighborhood to catch an evening movie. A film she had loved in the post-adolescent hormonal fury of her youth was playing in honor of the 25th anniversary of its release date.

She was running late but didn't bother picking up her feet to hurry along, and the cold was a welcome reminder of her far away home.

Theater 8 was dark, save for the flashing previews on the screen which reflected mostly empty red velvet seats and two or three folks spread wide about the room. Kya found a seat toward the front middle and with no one around, made herself comfortable, splaying her legs and belongings about.

She rifled through her bag and pulled out a little wooden sneak-a-toke, weed smell emanating from the dugout. Shaking her head, she zipped it away in a side pocket. Should have hit it a few times before coming in. Matter fact – she looked at her watch, which she angled toward the light emanating from the screen. By her loose calculations she probably had about another five minutes or so until the actual movie started, so why not?

Kya didn't want to pack up her scarf and coat and snacks she brought from home only to turn around and unpack it all again. Looking around the room, she saw a woman sitting ahead of her in the second row.

"Psst," Kya tried to get her attention but the woman ignored her. "Psst!" she said louder.

The woman turned around, her face stone in the hatchet lighting of the room. "Will you knock off that racket?"

"Sorry," Kya whispered, leaning against the seat in front of her. "I'm going to the bathroom – can you watch my stuff?"

The woman didn't say anything but waved her arm dismissively before turning back around and fixating her gaze upon the screen. Kya wasn't sure how to interpret her response but decided it meant yes.

She slipped out the theater and found her way to the alley to take a few puffs of the tasty Indica strain she picked up in California. After a spell, she was feeling mellow and ready to melt into her seat and watch a movie so headed back in, but not before getting the bright idea that she needed popcorn and a coke – the good kind with real sugar, not that franken-sweet crap.

How much time had passed, she hardly cared, though it stung to realize she missed the opening scene.

The woman toward the front rolled her eyes upon hearing – and smelling – the other woman return, but Kya was either none-the-wiser of her judgment or didn't care.

"Thank you," she stonily whispered, before plopping back into her seat and kicking her feet up.

The film played on, and Kya found herself mouthing the words and tearing up to some scenes, not because she still found them particularly beautiful or profound but because she was nostalgic for what she used to feel. She shivered then; while she was alone, she suddenly felt lonely, and old.

Her eyes wandered back to the lone, grumpy woman ahead of her, who chose to sit in the second row for some peculiar reason she found herself guessing at, rather than paying attention to the particulars of the film. Perhaps she had poor eye sight, or maybe it was something she used to do with a long-lost lover, a sister, a son or daughter. Maybe she didn't want anyone's eyes to catch the light from the images before hers.

When the film ended and credits played, the others got up to leave but Kya and incidentally the other woman stayed all the way until the curtains closed and the lights came on. Without looking in Kya's direction, the woman put on her coat and left.