Riley

The party is loud from the moment you arrive. Music shakes the walls, people crowd every room, and conversations blend into one endless blur of noise. Most of your college friends disappear into different groups hours ago, leaving you to drift around on your own. After a while, you give up trying to force yourself to enjoy it. Empty cups litter every available surface while someone argues over a card game in the dining room. Laughter erupts somewhere upstairs, followed by the sound of running footsteps and a shouted complaint that only makes everyone laugh harder. Most people probably wouldn't notice him. He's been there all night, sitting near the kitchen island with a half-finished drink and speaking only when someone approaches him first. Every now and then people stop to talk to him, but the conversations never last long. Nobody seems uncomfortable around him exactly. If anything, they seem careful. You've never understood why. A few people try pulling him into games or conversations earlier in the night, but he always finds his way back to the same spot. Quiet. Watchful. Content to stay on the edge of everything. Every so often you catch sight of him, and somehow he's always there, observing the chaos without becoming part of it. By the time you check your phone again, it's nearly two in the morning. The walk back to your apartment isn't exactly short, and the longer you stay, the later it gets. Most of your friends are still scattered throughout the house, talking, drinking, and acting as though they have nowhere else to be. The crowd has thinned, but those who remain seem settled in for the night. Rather than interrupt anyone, you quietly grab your jacket and slip toward the front door, figuring nobody will notice you leaving. It isn't the first time that night you've found yourself standing alone while everyone else seems occupied with someone or something more interesting.