She stands alone in a corner of the room. She holds a cup in her hand, but gingerly, as though she wasn't quite sure what to do with it. The music has no effect on her, as she stands and stares at the floor, occasionally running her free hand through her severely pinned hair.

I don't know her, so I made no attempt to engage her in conversation. Besides, what would there be to talk about? The party, the music? All those would be irrelevant.

She isn't unnoticed, though. The other woman, the redhead, is weaving her way towards her through the crowd of laughing, dancing people. The redhead is not laughing. Her thin lips curve downward, the way they always seem to do.

The redhead comes up to the blonde, I couldn't hear the words over the music, but it isn't hard to tell what she is saying. Don't stay there all alone. Come with me. Have some fun. The blonde shakes her head and brings her arms closer in to her body. No. It is irrelevant.

The redhead has no drink in hand, but she is already tipsy. She did not stagger or weave but her face is confused, sad. She would never let anyone see her like that normally. She was always the leader, solid and unshakeable. She never doubts and is never doubted.

The redhead moves closer to the blonde, who starts to lean away. The redhead leans forward, and touches her lips to the other woman's. They touch for only a moment when the blonde pulls away, her face pink.

The redhead flushes too. She leans in again, even as the blonde continues to shy away. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. It won't happen again. The blonde steadies, her blue eyes opening wider.

This time it is the blonde who leans forward. It is a clumsy kiss, her mouth only brushing the cheek and almost becoming caught in the other woman's ear. She pulls away, her face reddening by the second. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Her big blue eyes ask the other for forgiveness.

The redhead has flushed more at this second kiss, it seems, than the first. She moves forward, hesitates, then steps back. She makes an excuse, and loses herself in the crowd.

The blonde has hardly moved during all this. She still stands in the corner, an island of silence. The blush quickly fading, her face shows no sign of the encounter, save for a slight wetness of the eye.

Is it a tear? Of happiness or of sadness? Or perhaps neither. I don't know, and it is certainly none of my business. I turn away, slip into the crowd, leaving her.