Flash Fiction - Lonely Man

Lonely Man


                “Well I guess I’ll join the party” said the lonely man in the crowded room. The walls listened at his back and side. The room stank of some cheap Hawaiian-scented air freshener. It clearly had been applied with a heavy hand and a guilty conscience.
                “Squeezing through” should not be a literal term. But there were clearly some who loved the atmosphere. At the moment his arms were free to move about him without apology, so he had no cares for either side.
                His tipping point was usually a reminder to a friend that some waitresses worked for less than minimum wage. To sit a dance out was one thing. To linger in a dark corner for a half hour would soon bring the label of ‘stalker’. So the lonely man in the crowded room decided to join the party.