The title is taken from the great song that inspired this. The District Sleeps Alone Tonight by The Postal Service.

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

The sky was greyish, that color that should be indicating a soon-to-be rainstorm. But there was no rain. There was nothing but a severe chill to the air that penetrated my spine and finger tips. Unfortunately, I was wearing those gloves that are cut off at the fingers. And my maroon scarf was doing nothing to hide my neck from the cold air.

My taxi cab wove in and out of traffic, up and down the Alphabet lettered streets. Passing large white monuments and houses. I could never decide if Washington D.C. was a depressing or inspirational place. Right then, though, I was definitely leaning towards the former. My sweaty hands were not inspiring anything from the capital, the place where big things happen. Big people did big things here. I would be lucky if my insignificant self could repair what had broken.

When the bumble-bee like taxi stopped at the curb outside her apartment complex, I saw her in all her magnificent glory waiting for me out in the cold. Her arms wrapped around her body like a shield to the wind, blonde hair blowing every which way. There was just a small smile on her lips as I stepped out onto the sidewalk.

"Hey." I addressed her quietly. I was holding back. What I really wanted to do was have my arms replace her own and to bury my face in her neck. And either kiss it or sob into it. I wasn't sure.

"Hey there." She answered and moved towards me. The hug happened in the kind of slow-motion you see in dramatic movies and television shows. It was not a joyous embrace, but it was a slightly comforting one at least. "You're here." She announced as we let go of each other. Me reluctantly, and her seemingly easily.

"I am." I smiled as my eyes scanned her face for the first time in months. It looked skinnier, a more defined jaw. Her blue eyes looked tired, but happy nonetheless. There was still that ever-present sparkle that made me fall in love every single time I saw it. "It's cold out here."

She nodded in agreement as I grabbed the one bag I had brought with me. She led us inside and to her apartment door, which was unlocked with a black key.

When I walked inside, I saw her everywhere. She was in the couch, in the lamps, in the coffee table, in the tablecloth. The outside of the apartment complex did her no justice, but she had instilled herself all over the inside. Soft blue couch, the one in which I would be sleeping on. Polka dotted tablecloth, pastel greens and pinks and yellows splattered all over.

My brown eyes spotted the thick book on the coffee table, the one I bought her for a just-because present a long time ago. A book about bridges. Huge architectural structures, small step bridges. We had been together for a handful of months, still in that honeymoon stage, in that bliss that seemed to die down more quickly than a fire doused in buckets of water. It was no one's fault. She was leaving. I was staying. I would no longer be a permanent physical structure in her life, just a reoccurring visitor.

She was the worst kind of "friend" in that moment that seemed to last centuries. The kind of "friend" that I was still completely in love with. When she broke up with me I kept it together on the outside, trying to understand. But I was crumbling on the inside. Now there was just debris.

"The couch pulls out, and it's pretty comfortable. A bunch of my friends said they're going out tonight, so we can do that." She told me as she watched me put my bag on the couch, next to the pillows and blankets that were already stationed on it.

"That sounds fun." I replied.

She smiled at me, those blue eyes twinkling just a little bit more than before. "I'm glad you're here."

-

Her new friends were all extremely smart. They were all going places, determined. You know the type, the girls who always raise their hands in class, answering every question correctly. They had internships in The White House. They did community service for non-profit organizations. They were environmentally friendly. I had never felt more out of place.

The bar was a boring sports bar that lawyers frequented after a long day in the office. I saw nothing to do but to drink down the night. And in a matter of hours, I was buzzed and feeling better about myself and this situation I found myself in.

"How ya feelin'?" I heard her slurred, but soft voice ask me later on. Her blonde hair had gotten a little static-y and crazy. She looked adorable and I wanted to touch her, just be in contact with that soft skin for a second or two, or three or four.

"Pretty good, pretty good." I answered with a tilted smile on my face. My brown eyes focused intensely on her blue ones, and I never tore them away. She was the only thing in this dimly lit room that seemed so perfectly clear.

When the bars began to turn out their lights, we headed back to her apartment. The streets were empty, something I thought weird. And the inside of her apartment was just as cold as the chilly air outside. I hugged her goodnight, a long hug, holding onto the back of her sweatshirt. My hands gripped the fabric softly. No words were spoken as my mouth made contact with her neck. It did nothing but gently rest there.

"I missed you." I mumbled, my eyes closed tight.

Her lips met mine softly and gently, pushing and pulling each others. I had to pull away before the wetness in my eyes threatened to fall.

She rested her forehead against mine, and a light "goodnight" was whispered between out conjoining breaths. I knew what it meant, more importantly I knew what it didn't mean. Nothing changed, because reality was still reality. One kiss wouldn't bring us back together. Not that easily, and not now.

Her life in this place was important. And so I lay alone on her couch, in her apartment, in her life where I was so very out of place.

I guess I was the one worth leaving.

El Fin