The princess and the press lock eyes, then part. As credits roll, the audience erupts in applause. Love so grand as to encompass restraint? Or duty that trumps all?

We are heavy-chested with sighs and the celluloid romance clings gauzily as I make my way home through the black streets. Electric lights reflect gold, white, red, and green in the wet asphalt, they move with me until I cross the freeway to the neighborhood. Only the smell of jasmine follows me now.