Forgotten Lovers & Shimmering Orchestra

Digging in a closet, through old tea sets and strange looking antique objects.

I find a forgotten lover in a shoebox. He unfolds to man-size.
Our backstory: A plane crashes, kills his first wife and son. We have a short carribean affair, the heat of which returns to us in this moment. in a sensation that can be compared to a fresh burn.
Something very big that I'd erased from my memory after we'd split.
He seemed particularly distraught about his son, even years later. He's aged. But he's got a new wife now.
Still with that eye that is half twisted metal, half satyr-winking to doe, “You know, we could have been found if we’d wanted to. But we two are are far too elegant.”
~
Exiting a school of some sort, an unrecognizable man sitting on a rock whips around to address me, 'Well, if it's not too much trouble, would you marry me?'
'Sure, I need a husband to cheat on.' my mind is disembowling itself with laughter.
( I vaguely remember I'd dated him once as a teenage expirement. He's rather preppy in appearance; not my type at the time.)
What I really said to him was 'Yeah, sure.'
After all, he's not bad looking, and is clearly very formal and stable. This could come in handy one day, and I'm so tired of trying to find the difference between all the others.

I sit down with him and a crowd quickly gathers around us. They are trying to tell him what to do, how to propose, how to tie his shoes, what color the grass is.

'No', he stops them, 'Listen to what THEY are saying.' Points to our left.

To our left is a band of string musicians. Fiddlers with no bridges, sawing an uneven tremolo that, when shared with the other instruments (guitars? lyres? dulcimer?), creates the most shimmering euphoric music.
I am delighted and because of his gentle attention to the music, decide to abandon that guttural sarcasm with which I accepted the proposal.