They meet.

This is a monologue I'm playing with for the play-in-progress. Damon is a DJ. (Which is why the photo of Moby's jeans was particularly suitable as his avatar in my brain.) Callie is a compulsive overthinker who can only find peace when running or dancing. (This character is not the least bit autobiographical. But before anyone asks--no, there is no DJ.) Callie speaks to the audience. Damon is onstage, but not interacting with her.

Callie

It's happened to all of you. I know it has. There you are, just minding your own business, doing whatever it is that you are doing, whatever it is that you do, you look up and... You don't expect it, you don't even necessarily want it, but there it is. Someone staring at you. Someone smiling at you. And you just can't help but stare back. It's like this person has some sort of hold over you. And no matter how hard you try, you can't turn away. Like in Star Wars, when the Millennium Falcon arrives in the Alderan system, only to find the planet obliterated, and Imperial fighter flying around what appears to be a small moon. Only it's NOT a small moon. It's the Death Star. But before Obi Wan realizes it, the ship is caught in a tractor beam and pulled inexorably toward--right, well, you get the picture. There's no escape.

* * * * * *

Let me take you back. I avoided him the first night, and then most of the next time I saw him--the next week. I always make it a point of making friends with the DJ. Sometimes they're interesting. Sometimes they're assholes. But this time, I killed my normal routine. I fully planned on continuing to avoid him. But he caught me by surprise.

I thought I could get by him. Sneak by under the radar. No. He was just standing there, his hands on the table, leaning forward, looking out over the crowd, thinking I don't know what. I was thinking "Damn, those are some well-defined arms. Wonder what those feel like." Seriously. Will you look at those forearms? But...uh...whatever he was thinking, it wasn't cocky. There was a big crowd, they were all into it, but he wasn't standing there thinking "This is all about me." He's not like that.

Anyway, I figured I could get by him quickly. I pried my eyes away from... those arms... and he was looking. Caught-cha lookin'! Well, I guess he caught me, too. But he was gracious about it, not like those losers who fix you with the death stare--they try to be all hard and manly. They never smile. Damon, he smiled. He was in. Exactly what I was avoiding.