Trip finished off a whole large popcorn and soda all by himself as he watched the latest B-movie monster flick to play in theatres. He licked his fingers satisfactorily as the credits started to roll and the lights slowly came up.
The theatre started to clear, and he gathered his trash and joined the winding line going towards the exit. He stared into space above a woman's shoulder and tuned out the chatter of the teens behind him. His gaze meandered over the people and the place and settled on the brown hair he loved so much. He blinked. Surely not?
The man turned his head slightly, and the sight of his profile squeezed Trip's heart. He took a deep breath. "Malcolm?" He called as loudly as he dared, just as the line began to move in earnest. He barely heard his own voice over the conversations in the crowd and the noise of the halls.
"Malcolm!"
His friend, so far ahead of him, turned left out of the doors. He willed the line to go more quickly, bouncing impatiently from foot to foot and trying to crane his neck to keep an eye on Malcolm.
But by the time he made it to that same door and could look upon the lobby, filled with so many people leaving the last shows and arriving for the next, that head of brown hair he loved so much was gone, merged into anonymity amongst the throngs.
Trip cast his eyes around the place one last time before chucking his trash into the nearest bin with more force than was strictly necessary and heading for the exit and his car. Time to head home.
Alone.
Again.
