Before the Song Ended

It was the second set, and suddenly I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel anymore.

Why did I feel like I was already connected to the guy sitting on my right?

I tried to ignore it at first. I told myself it was just the energy of the night, the music, the crowd. But the feeling lingered. I caught myself noticing the way he carried himself—the long black hair, the tattoo peeking out from the side of his neck. I didn’t know what it was. Something about him. Or something about me. Or maybe it was the space between us, quietly pulling tighter without either of us moving.

I had never felt this before. Not like this. Not on a random summer night at a concert.

And for the first time that evening, I found myself wishing the night wouldn’t end.

I pushed the thought away. I didn’t want to ruin this moment by thinking about endings. I wanted to stay right here—in the music, in the noise, in the feeling. I didn’t know when I’d get to see this band again, and everything about this night felt too special not to fully take in. Whatever this strange feeling was, I told myself it would stay right here, tucked safely into my memory.

The second set was even better. They played almost all of my favorite songs. Then came a slow one—the kind that instantly pulls you backward in time. Suddenly I was back in high school, carefree and laughing, singing lyrics I didn’t realize I still remembered.

My left hand held my phone, recording the moment. My right hand gripped the chair in front of me for balance. I was exhausted from standing on my toes all night, trying to see past the tall guy in a hat blocking my view. My legs ached. I was pretty sure cramps were coming.

Then, during the last song, a thought slipped into my mind.

I hope the guy on my right holds my hand.

The thought startled me.

I didn’t know where it came from. Maybe it was the song. Maybe it was the way the night felt suspended, like it existed outside of time. Or maybe it was the quiet realization that after this, I might never see him again.

The song ended.

The confetti fell.

The lights came back on.

And just like that, the night shifted.