OLD FLAME

Bumped into an ex just before Christmas, and our random reunion in the street couldn’t have been more romantic. She huddled under my umbrella during a torrential rainstorm before we retreated to a nearby bar and had a drink by a roaring fire.

The chemistry was impossible to deny, and yet the entire conversation was mostly spent pretending it wasn’t there, as if we knew better than to even go there. We were unconvincing actors, deflecting our deep bond, consistently betrayed by glances that suggested that if we held them any longer, we would have to give up all pretence and fall in love again, all over again.

Still, the restraint was impressive and carried the air of Noël Coward’s Brief Encounter. Similar to one of the scenes in David Lean’s film adaptation of the play, our quiet chat was interrupted by two random-ish people we vaguely knew. At that point, our Christmas fate was sealed, as we barely spoke to each other for the rest of the time we sat in the bar.

Perhaps this was the work of one of Cupid’s cousins, Disrupt or something. Whatever it was, all I know is I ended up having to pretend to be be fascinated by a near-total stranger, while someone I knew as well as anyone in my life had to do the exact same.

Still, in the implicit recognition between us that the flame we share was too bright for us to properly acknowledge anyway, perhaps it was for the best that we were interrupted like this.

But in the freezing cold and miserable damp of midwinter, somehow it did good to know that there’s still some place where our hearts could belong without any complications.

Some things are worth not spoiling by forcing them to exist in a context such as a relationship that is simply too small for its potential.

Yep. It's one of those.