His own laugh seems to take him by surprise. It is light and open and playful, and suddenly his eyes are bluer, his face smoother, and this sudden attractiveness catches me off guard. I am unbalanced by the intensity of the moment, by my response to his laughter. It is as if I am only just seeing him for the first time, as if during the year of regular work meetings I only saw the shadow of who he was.

Like a flare at sea, the brightness of the sudden light hurts my eyes, and when I close them I still see his silhouette, black against red. The light flickers, as is the flare's nature, and dies, and trails off into the dark, leaving wisps of memory smoking into the sky.