A summer’s night. A first flat in a run-down house in the not yet but nearly trendy part of Auckland.
A quiet side street. Hidden. But close enough to the nearby pubs to hear bursts of loud laughter. Life going on elsewhere.
A flat full of people. Music filtering out and onto the porch.
And us. On the porch together escaping it all. We didn’t really know each other.
A conversation. A connection. A phone call. A visit. More chat.
Until we made our way outside to share first fragments of ourselves. The promise of the future hung heavy in the air around us.
Then the sounds of the house winding down. The radio replacing vinyl. After the new romantics and plastic punk, a change of mood. Mellow. A song came on the radio.
If I show you a sunset …
We smiled and reached for each other’s hands as we rose and tiptoed up creaking stairs.
Will you stay with me till dawn?
I once heard an interview with the writer of the song. She was asked for whom she had written the song. She wouldn’t say.
“Did he stay?”
“It didn’t work out.”
Stereo Story #525