The Solo Traveller

I may have been the only guest not part of a couple, but I wasn't the only one feeling alone

- SARA OCHS

Anticipation thrums through the air as the blood-red sun plummets beneath the waves. The intense heat of the afternoon finally loosens its grip over the resort, and soft lights flicker to signal the transition to dinner time. Five days have passed since I arrived in Bali, and I still haven't got over the beauty of this place.

Guests around me depart from their patio furniture in an excited flurry of conversation, but I keep my place at the resort's bar. I take a sip from my drink and sneak a glance at the clock on my phone.

I hear her before I see her. Her voice is friendly as she throws out a "good evening" to the bartender, the swish of her linen trousers punctuating her entrance. Blonde hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, a crop top accentuates the recently-tanned skin of her toned abs, and delicate gold jewellery hangs from her wrists and neck.

She slides into one of the open stools near me and flicks through the menu in front of her.

"I think I'll go with the lychee martini."

"Good choice," I say, holding my own in a salute as the bartender hurries away.

Her eyes are wary as she turns towards me. I understand why. This is a resort for couples, catering to honeymooners and those celebrating notable anniversaries. Out of everyone I've seen here, I'm the only solo traveller. But her lips lift in a smile.

"Glad to hear it." I can hear her southern American accent. "Are you on your own tonight as well?"

"I am," I admit. "This was actually supposed to be my honeymoon." I can tell it shocks her, but she was raised with southern manners, and she immediately refigures her expression to one of sympathy.

I should stop, I know, but something pushes me forward.

"We broke up a little while back. He wasn't the guy I thought he was. But the trip was non-refundable, so ..."

She's silent for a moment, and I shrink back, realising how far I've overstepped.