When the world darkens, people search for light. Be it a candle or a fireplace, doesn’t really matter as long as it deems suitable.

I found my light too early in life, I think. Too early and too easy. It was quick, too - a burst of flame in my heart, ignited by the matches at the hands of another. A man.

When I first met him, I had not a clue that the world was dark, much less that I needed to search for light. I was young and just 20, not blinded by the darkness at night but by the brightness that came before. He was 22, and I saw him strolling into that blindness with matches in his hands. At night, we’d roam the city, finding joy in this pathetic world. Everyday was an adventure for me, a new discovery in the loud city of New York. Frankly, I’d never had enough money or time to join the parties at night, the loudness that I hated and desired. But he grew up in the upper east side, with enough money to last the whole family for centuries, it seemed like. He knew every corner of New York, not just the upper east side. It was with him, that I ever went against curfew laws and joined the hundreds who celebrated in mid-darkness. They were noisily enjoying themselves, and I now was a part of pretentious noise.

But I should have known that lights ignited by matches have a short life because I finally saw my world engulfed by evils. It was 1914 and the whole world was in a fight. And he told me one night, that he needed to be a part of that noise. I didn’t believe in fights and he, a lad from the upper east side, wanting to pick up arms made little to no sense to me. But he said he’d return with such confidence that I almost believed him. He said he’d return! Off he went, and I never saw him again.

Years passed and I eventually did find another light. More stable and warm like the ones in the fireplace. But every once… in a while, I revisited the places where my heart was first ignited. Though the places lost its charm and popularity, I could almost hear the blaring noises of people and music and— him.

Two decades passed since he went off to war, and I still can’t let the “what ifs” go. I stand in front of  Philies, the last place I ever went with him. The very place where he announced his return. The place has changed a lot, so quiet and empty at nights.

I stand there pathetically, imagining what we would have looked like, sitting there in peace at this age. I imagine us, in our well-dressed attire, sitting there talking about our adventures…