It was a beautiful, sunny day, not too bright and not too hot. Just perfect, with a hint of woolly clouds. He was lounging on his sofa, when the thought overtook him. Not a thought really, but a memory, of the events that had transpired the previous night. He had been to this bar on 5th Street, drinking a strong concoction supplied by the gargantuan bartender. He was lost in his memories, his loss, his regrets. He raised his eyes above the rim of his glass and at that moment, his eyes met another pair. Right across the room, away from the din and humdrum of the revel makers, almost shrouded in complete darkness, was a woman standing with a drink in her hand. Not talking to anyone, she was just waiting for something. Their eyes met and he was hit by this electric force, as if his brain had been doused with cold water. She was not very beautiful, nor was she unattractive. But there was something in the cut of her flowy, white gown, something in the way she stood that read like defiance. It drew you in, but at the same time put you on your guard. He stopped staring and looked down at his drink, then he looked up again, and there she was still looking at him. Then she smiled and her face transformed into the sunniest of days. He swore he could smell fresh grass and rain, just by looking at her smile. It was disarming, an invitation.

He debated internally for a second, before he got off his stool, took his drink in his left hand, and started to walk across the vast expanse, full of writhing bodies gyrating to the beats of popular music. As he was navigating his way across, the words like "Honeypot" and "Golddigger" popped up in his brain glowing in neon signs, but he had a look at her again, " I have nothing to lose," he thought to himself, and continued.

A few paces from her, she flickered, and then disappeared. "Great," he thought, "all for nothing". His pride had been hurt, ego deflated, and he was stunned at this so obvious a rebuff. Nobody had ever done that to him before. This was a safe place and normally people used their words, but never once in all of his eight years of coming to ‘Raze’, had someone just disappeared in front of him. He let it sink, as he stood there, where she had stood, but instead of looking at the floor, he turned around and looked at the stars through the clear, glass walls. It was dark and beautiful outside. He knew he was 300 floors above the ground, and he was above the cloud cover, inspite of that he felt this urge rise inside of him, to just jump off, and end it.

The urge passed and he laughed at himself. One rebuff and he was already planning to check out. No, the night was still young. He would stay for a little bit more, see what sticks.

He turned to go back to his place beside the bar, when he felt a light tap on his shoulder, and heard someone say, "Hey". He turned around and saw that beautiful smile again and forgot about what he was thinking. "Hey," he said trying to sound casual. "Sorry I had to pop out for a bit," she said breathlessly. "No problem," said he, "I was just about to go back." He extended his right hand, and said "Hello, I am Stephan". She took his hand and said, "I am Drussilla". He gave her the slightest of double takes, leaning back he said, “Wow, that is a unique name! One that I am going to remember for quite some time". He paused and then continued, "But nice name Drusilla". 

"Thanks," she said leaning forward, "but it’s not my real name". 

"I know," he said, "unless you are Count Dracula's cousin, and don’t worry, my name is not Stephan either".

It was her turn to be surprised but she recovered very quickly, and said, "Okay, guess we both know where each stands". 

"Yes," he said.

"Although it’s not the only name I use, to be honest....," he continued, "You see, Stephan is sensitive, has travelled, reads a lot and likes to recite poetry".

He stepped back and looked up, and a dreamy almost poetic expression came into his eyes, 

"And If I go, while you are still here..., know that I live on,

Vibrating to a different measure, Behind a thin veil that you cannot see through,

You will not see me, So you must have faith.

I wait for the time when we soar together again, both aware of each other.

Until then, live your life to the fullest and when you need me, 

Just whisper my name in your heart ... I will be there", he finished.

She was really taken aback, and said, "Wow, did you write it?"

"No," he said sadly, "In this case I am merely the reciter. This poem was written by a mortal far more talented than this humble soul," he continued, "It was written by Emily Dickenson".

He paused, sipped his drink and looked out of the glass walls for a second. "So, you are Stephan," she said affirmatively, wringing him out of his reverie.

He considered the question, thinking how easy it would be to lie. Yes, I am Stephan, I am sensitive, and nurturing and I am really interested in what you have to say. But then he decided that he would be truthful for a change. He was tired of all the lying. Tired of being a firefly and of these existential relationships, weary of waking up alone every morning and questioning the purpose of such a meaningless existence. He wanted to meet somebody as him, but he wasn’t ready for that yet, not until he met someone with the same needs as him.

So he said, "No, I am not Stephan. I mean right now I am. Other times I am Ricardo," he said pensively. He looked down at his drink, took a sip and looked up again. She could feel his entire personality changing before her own eyes, like the previous body language had melted, and in front of him stood this cheerful guy, who was only too aware of his good looks and the effect it had on ladies.

"Hi, I am Ricardo," he said cheerfully in a Spanish accent, "My Inglais, veery little, not so good". She laughed out loud at this spectacle and clapped her hands.

"I was life guard in Salvadoor, but pay not veery good," he continued in his cheerful accent, and she seemed enthralled by this strange man.

"One day I meet a wooman, and my life changed foreever. She says to me, you must travel, Ricardo, to South Africa, pay veery good she says, so I get on ship The Esquitador as cabin boy, and woorking my way across the oceans," he paused.

"But then big storm comes," he continued animatedly, "and my ship, turns over, kaput...gone...I get thrown overboard into sea and get thrown into icy deep of the sea". He stopped.

"And then," she asked tersely ,"what happened next?"

"Me struggles for hours, sweemming, hangiing to brooken piece of ship wood," he gestured with his hands, "and me thinks I going to die. The end of Ricardo, me thinks, as my strength goes, and I swim no longer. I thinks about mama, papa who in heaven and me thinks I go join them and be at peace".

"But then," he continued, "a miracle happening. I see a ship, veery beeg, and Ricardo waves his hands, but no one in ship sees. So Ricardo geeves up hope again. But then ship changes course, and peecks up Ricardo. After a month Ricardo back in Salvador again. Me thinks this is fate. Me is destined to be in Salvador. So now I runs a small restaurant, veery small, A shack as you say," he concluded.

He took a sip of his drink again and she saw that Ricardo is gone and Stephan was back.

"So one of them is you," she said, "isn't it?"

He considered her question for a moment, and then said, "To be honest, they are both me," he said while looking out of the glass windows, "parts of me...but it is insignificant to the real question, don’t you think," he said turning around, and facing her.

"Which is?" she asked curiously.

"Which one do you prefer, Ricardo or Stephan?" he said.

She looked down, as if weighing her options, and then she asked, "Do you tell this to every girl you meet?"

"Strangely, you are the first person I have ever said all this," he said truthfully.

"Why me?" she questioned, curiosity in her big eyes.

"Because you are the first person who confided in me to using an alias. You see people have taken it for granted here, nobody uses their real name anymore, to protect themselves from catching whatever disease this place can spew forth, but we have all taken it for granted. People are smart and people are devious and cunning. I have seen all that. But even amidst all that, you are honest, you can say you are honestly dishonest. I find that refreshing, and that means you are very new here," he answered.

"So...enough about me," he said, "where are you from?" he asked her casually.

"Since you are being so genuine, I guess I shall take your lead," she said with a flick of her auburn hair, "I am from Colorado and as you so rightly guessed, I am new here," her brown eyes sparkling.

"Oh, here I was thinking I had met a real-life vampire from Transylvania. Next time just go with your alias, it makes for much better reality don’t you think?" he said half in jest.

She laughed throatily and said, "Sadly not from Transylvania, señor, just plain, old Colorado".

"So what brings you here of all places?" he asked touching her elbow signalling that they should find someplace to sit.

"Ennui and a determination to meet new people. I have always been scared of this place you see. You are the first sanely intelligent person I have met here," she said while sinking down into one of the cushions near the wall enclave.

"Ennui; that can be cured here," he said seriously, "but the pleasure derived from meeting new people is incurable, I think. The rush of getting to know someone new, the pleasure derived in seeing how similar you are, and then the eventual heart wrenching separation due to how different you are...but c'est la vie, I guess".

"So why tell me all this about you, why be honest with me?" she questioned again.

"Because I am done with meeting new people for an instant and then waking up alone the next morning. Make sense?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess, but then why not meet people as you?" she asked.

"Because I think nobody would be interested in the real me. Actually I am not even sure which is the real me anymore," he finished.

Suddenly there was a small, ringing noise. She reached into her gown and pulled out her phone. 
"Sorry, I have to go now, but it was nice meeting you," she said getting up.
He remained there for an instant, but then he got up and with a smile he said, "It was really nice meeting you too, Drusilla".

"Don't look so sad, I will see you again tomorrow, here," she said.

"Yeah. Okay," he said but he knew he would never see her again, not like this anyway.

She disappeared the next instant.

He looked down and shook his head, finished the rest of his drink, and decided to call it a night.
He kept the glass on one of the tables and looked out of the wall again.
What had come over him he thought. Never again. He felt tired and worn out. 

He pushed a button and the glass wall melted away.
He breathed hard and jumped into nothingness. He could feel the air swooshing by him as he fell down 3000 feet. As he hit the cloud cover, he could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, his heart throbbing glad to be alive.

After falling about another thousand feet, he slowed and his body felt enveloped by pillowy warmth and softness. By the time he hit the ground, he was asleep.

Back home the Metaverse glasses slipped for only a second when by instinct he put them on again.

The next night at Raze, Ricardo was back again.