Rays of satisfaction

And we spend the next few days roaming and laughing around, talking about things, people, spending time with each other. Like we used to. All the time, when we lived in the same city.
We walk. Walk a few kilometers. There's that something different in the breeze ever since I came to meet her. Something that tells us not to recall the sadness we went through some time ago. Something that tells us to live the present. And we behave accordingly. We don't want to recall the only bad time ever since we became friends. We kind of made our way through it and maybe, maybe that's why I'm now feeling that freshness in the winds today. We reach here at this garden. She speaks of her life on our way, her voice, favourite of everyone I know, adds a joyous finishing touch to every thought of mine. The freshness somehow assures me that no matter what happens from now on, with life, nothing can ever be that bad. As today, if I'm able to notice the beauty I can't see but feel, has the power to assure me something that nothing else could ever before, I sure possess the capacity to make things fall at place, don't I?
She's on the phone. A few steps away from me. With him. The love of her life. Distance doesn't matter, I can see how unstable she gets if things aren't well. I can see how even a sweet something she hears from that side of the phone makes her blush all differently. I'm happy for her. For both of them. For having found the souls to complete each other's lives.
I'm here. Sitting alone on this bench. Not lonely. I have the green grass in front of and below this bench. I have a pleasing location to view at on the left side. And I'm pretty surrounded by people who are probably here for their evening walks. They pass by me, looking at me like anyone else does. I get to hear women's gossips of how their relatives are sometimes very offensive. The garden's not totally noisy though there is a specific sound. People here, I don't know any of them. And maybe that's why I feel comfortable here. So comfortable that the noise they make doesn't bother.
I get to see that old man sitting a couple of benches away from me. White hair, white mustache. Possibly has a well settled family in a well-known area. But the freshness he exposes, makes me feel like he has known what it is to lead and live a life. And not just have it. I don't know him. Not even from far. He does look at me repeatedly, though. And I don't mind. Should I?
Because when I said I was alone but not lonely, didn't I mean the latter actually?