There he is. Do you see him? NO! Don't look at him. Don't. But do you see him? He's right over there. Yes. No, don't look. Did he see you looking? Good.

We're from too different worlds. He's in janitorial. I'm not. We met once quite by accident. Yes, I know. That's the way these things always work.

Well, it is kinda funny. I have these torches I'm responsible for in my show. I have to light them for the big forest scenes and hope they don't get dropped and broke.

Yes, I know. But y'see, it's these torches. They need lighter fluid to stay lit. No, I don't know what they used back then. This isn't back then. This now. Now, they use lighter fluid. Will you listen to me? Quit looking at him. He'll see you. Did he look?

I ran out of fluid and went to get more out of the Flammables Closet. All I can find is Torch Fluid and I'm working with torches--Yes, I know I said I needed lighter fluid but I didn't know that then. I thought they were torches, so they needed torch fluid. It doesn't matter what I said before, you’re messing me up. Will you please--Do you want to hear this? Well, all right. Quit.

I used the torch fluid, okay. But it stank. The actors were bitching about it. We couldn't breath back stage. Some of it spilled. Right onto my nice black shoes, right? Bleached all the color out of them. And I've been sticking my hands into this shit. 

Of course, I haven't been using gloves. There's no time. I had other things I had to be doing. Right. Well, okay, I USE gloves now, but I didn't then. But that was how I found out that I was supposed to be using Lighter Fluid.

So now, I got to burn the Torch Fluid out of 8 torches so I can put the Lighter Fluid in. That's when he shows up. The Janitor.

Well, he was always there but I hadn't seen him before. See, once the stage is ready for the next show, the janitors come in and do--well, whatever it is janitors do. I always see them riding on trash cans or pushing dust mops. Y'know, with the walkmans on and there's bobbing their heads like this.

But he can't ride the cans or push the mop 'cause I'm there. He was to wait 'til I'm done. So he sits and rolls a smoke. At first I was kinda glad he turned up 'cause I was feeling stupid with all the tourists staring at me.  They're always walking through to look at the theatre and take pictures. And here I am, like a dork, sitting in 100 degree heat burning torches of all things.

So I thought it would be okay for him to sit there and talk with me. Then I wouldn't feel so stupid. I had no idea. Is he still--Gawd, why won't he go somewhere?

See, when he looks at me, I get these really weird feelings, like I'm going to throw up. My palms get real sweaty.

Y'know it's the same way I felt when I smacked my head on that lead pipe.

I knew I had to see him again. So I'd make up things I needed. Like paper towels to clean up the Lighter Fluid. I'd go get more and more each day. I think I've got the bulk of the Corporation's towels in my work area.

One problem. We have nothing to talk about. I'd keep trying to think up things. Y'know shows or movies or any god dammed thing. Nothing. They'd get all used up in the first few minutes.

That's not me! Y'know me. I even talk in my sleep. I'd be sitting there with absolutely nothing to stay. And then this incredible urge to run would flood my soul. Next thing I know I'm back with my torches, wondering how I can see him again.

I think I've figured out what the problem is. His eyes. They're this shade of blue that I don't think is supposed to exist. And if I could, I'd spend the rest of my life staring into those eyes of his.  I could do without food, beer or a bed as long as I had those eyes to look at.

Staring into those eyes, I suddenly find I'm at the edge of an abyss, breeze whipping around me, toes curling into long grass. I'm ready to do a gainer and one half that would do Greg Louganis proud.

But I'm waiting.

All I need is a word, a nod, a smile. Just something to know that it'll be okay. Just that and I'd leap with him, screaming with fear and delight as we plummet to who-knows-what.

Well, all right.  Knowing me, he'd have to take my hand and jerk me off the Ledge. But I do want to jump. I know it. And I know I'll thank him for it.  Later. Thank  him for that chance to figure out exactly what shade those eyes are.

He melted out of the crowd a few minutes ago.  Just when I was bored out of my skull and thinking that there was nothing worth being here for he squeezed past me, headed for the keg.

He looked at me, trapping me in those blues eyes. We're so close that I can feel his body heat radiating off him. It's like-- Oh God, he's wearing leather.

And now in the afterglow of him wake, all I can smell is cologne and the musk of cowhide.

Is he still there? What do you mean? No, wait. Oh, he’s over by the keg. Don’t let him see you. I know. Yes, I’m gonna talk to him. I just got to think of what to say.