The sky outside the Midnight Blue lounge was pitch black, adorned with faintly shining stars. But inside, the world felt separate. The ambiance was warm, lit by low copper lamps, and filled with the sound of a lone piano playing softly. As Clara promised, this place was still alive in the heart of the sleeping city.
They got seats at the bar, close to the small stage where a middle-aged pianist with neatly combed white hair was bringing old classics to life. His hands were nimble and full of feeling.
"He's very good," whispered Clara, her eyes fixed on the pianist's deft fingers. "He plays with… a story."
Mark watched her. In this dim light, Clara's profile looked like a painting. There was a serenity radiating from her, a peace he had felt immediately at the café. He felt strange, so quickly comfortable with someone he had just met. Strangers in the Night had morphed into something else.
"So, what's the surprise song?" asked Mark, moving his chair a little closer.
Clara smiled mysteriously. She waved to the pianist who had just finished a piece. The man looked at her and nodded amiably. Clara whispered something in his ear, and he smiled wider, nodding in understanding.
The pianist returned to the piano, paused briefly, and gazed at the black and white keys with respect. Then, he began the simple, deep, and instantly recognizable intro.
Wise men say… only fools rush in…
It was the iconic, soft, and sweeping intro of Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley.
Clara turned to Mark. "Instrumental version," she whispered. "Sometimes, without lyrics, it feels even more."
And it was true. The flowing melody, played so feelingly by the pianist, filled the air between them. It was no longer just a song. It became their unspoken emotion. Every note seemed to say, Look at what is happening here. This is real.
But I… can't help… falling in love with you.
Mark heard the lyrics in his heart. He gazed at Clara, who now had her eyes closed, lost in the music. There was a sincere vulnerability about her, an artist surrendering completely to beauty. Mark's heart beat to the same rhythm as the piano piece.
"This song always feels like a decision," Clara said slowly, her eyes still closed. "Not just falling in love, but a surrender. Like saying, 'I know this might be rushed, but my soul has already chosen.'" She opened her eyes, looking at Mark. "I feel like that tonight."
Her words hung in the air, mingling with the continuing melody. Mark couldn't deny their truth. There was an undeniable force pulling him toward Clara, like a newfound gravity.
"Me too," Mark confessed, his voice hoarse. "Since you walked into the café earlier… everything has felt like it was written on a score I'd never read before."
Clara extended her hand across the table, palm up. An invitation. Without hesitation, Mark placed his hand over hers. The warmth of her skin spread, a connection stronger than an ordinary handshake. They sat like that, hands clasped, listening as the pianist played the song to its end.
When the final note faded, they clapped softly. The pianist nodded at them, his eyes twinkling with understanding.
"We need somewhere to stay," Clara said suddenly, her voice soft but clear.
Mark was startled. "You mean…?"
Clara smiled, a little embarrassed. "Not like that. I mean… this conversation. This feeling. It needs 'somewhere to stay.' Not to be left in this lounge, or on the sidewalk when we part later." She gazed into Mark's eyes with intensity. "I don't want this to end with a 'goodbye' and us becoming just a sweet memory recalled while listening to old songs. I want this to have… somewhere to stay."
Mark understood. He felt the same. The magic of this night was too precious to be just a story. He wanted it to be the opening chapter, not an epilogue.
"Tomorrow is August 19th," Mark said, his fingers gently stroking the back of Clara's hand. "How about we start with breakfast? And then, maybe we can find a 'place' for all this. Slowly. Like a melody that needs time to develop."
Light returned to Clara's eyes. "I'd love that. But…" She hesitated. "I have a small performance tomorrow afternoon. A practice recording for my portfolio. Would you come? It's… a part of me. I want you to see it."
The request felt like a gift of trust. Mark wasn't just invited into her tomorrow, but into her most private world.
"Time and place," Mark answered. "I'll be there."
They finally left Midnight Blue as dawn began to break. The city slowly changed color from black to bluish-gray. They walked slowly, hands still inseparable, as if afraid that letting go would break the spell.
Outside Clara's apartment, they stopped.
"Tonight was like a beautiful song," Clara said, gazing at Mark's face lit by the first morning light.
"And tomorrow," Mark added, gently lifting Clara's hand and kissing its back, "is when we start writing our own song."
Clara smiled, her cheeks flushing. She said nothing, just stood there, savoring the last moment of their togetherness that night—or morning.
When Mark finally turned to leave, after making sure Clara got in safely, he listened to his heart. It sounded like a familiar melody, rearranged with new hope.
Take my hand… take my whole life too… for I can't help falling in love with you.
He walked home with a light step. The quiet, empty city no longer felt cold. He had found more than just an engaging conversation. He had found a possibility. A 'place' for his feelings to reside. And the magical date of August 18th now held a promise for its 19th.
Love might indeed have been just a glance away. But after that first glance, all it needed was the courage to give it a 'place' to grow. And tonight, somewhere between an Elvis song and the touch of a hand, Mark and Clara had decided to build it.