Trunk

‘She’s there. She’s standing right there at the bar.’ He looks down, and lifts his head back up. ‘Yep… that’s her alright.’ As if confirming he’s actually standing in the same room as her and not in some computer simulation.

‘Ah-sa! Did you see her too? Kozue is here.’ Chi yells.

‘I know! She’s beautiful right!?’ He says a bit too assertively, oblivious to the fact he’s telling Chi how beautiful another woman is.

She’s shorter than he thought… a lot shorter. Models tend to be tall, at least in his experience, but she’s slight. Her black hair tied back drawing a spine down the back of her white t-shirt. He continues to take quick glances in her direction for another minute or so before something strange started to happen. He forgets she’s there, and his mind starts carrying him elsewhere.

For the first time in a long time, perhaps ever, he doesn’t feel like an imposter. He’s in a room, at a party, metres away from people he’s only ever seen in Vogue and indexed with 4.5million other followers. He takes a sip of his Whiskey, bops his head to the music and thinks how foolish he’s been for placing importance on being judged by others, because for all their ‘judgement’, he’s still in this room, at this party, metres away from everything.