Midnight

I remember meeting her because it was very late at night. And she had something in her hair. A feather I think. I was about to pluck it away when that flash of unfamiliarity crossed her face. I retreated. She joined me on my walk. Yelled to me about her dog. She loved sushi and funk music. We shared airpods. When she laughed at my joke, my heart leapt. I hadn't heard a laugh in so long. Behind her mask, she chewed gum. It was funny not to see her mouth move. Not to see her mouth. But I could hear her voice. So that was enough. When we made it to the end of the block, I turned back and she waved. I gave her back her airpod after cleaning it gently with my sleeve. She carefully placed it in her pocket. With her hand sanitizer I suppose. I made it home and closed the door. Washed my hands carefully. Wondered when she might notice that feather. And if she would have to take it out for herself. She lived alone too.