the bar is almost empty, save for a middle aged business man staring into his long warm whiskey, watered down by the melted ice, the glass leaving a damp ring on the polished counter.

a woman, maybe 30, sits alone on the far end of the counter, pretending not to notice him.

gershwin caresses the silence in a cliche of romantic rythms, the notes falling damply on the lush carpet, complementing the stale cigar smoke and the almost invisible barman.

the smell is strangely comforting, the large windows over the silent city lights creating a lonely air of separation.

the woman smiles whistfully, not wanting to give away the size of the lonliness that engulfs her. I smile back gently, but drop my gaze. I walk on by, to the window, and gaze thoughtlessly at the Tokyo city lights.

i barely notice as gershwin gives way to ella, and the businessman leaves the bar, his forgotten whiskey glass half empty on the counter, sweating its footprint into the counter, as if to emphasize its lonliness to the last remaining witnesses.

i breathe. like its the first time in years.

i turn, and the woman smiles again.

suddenly i love her like every woman i have ever loved, all at once.

i smile back