A red sky
Every time we meet someone new, we must discover whether they're a friend, or just another passing ship. To invite union, we reveal ourselves through a trail of carefully laid crumbs: a pointed remark, a telling laugh, an incisive question, a response from a particular angle, or perhaps certain phrasing that winks. We hold out a lock that can only be seen by those that hold the key. We ask the other person: "Is your sky also red?"
Strangers turn into friends when they spot our surreptitious hints. They hear our laugh and know its origins. We ask "why" and they find our curiosity familiar. We cry "thunder!" from the cover of the bush and they shout back "lightning!" from the field. The sky blazes red.
But this rarely happens. More often, our crumbs feed the birds. Our "thunder!" fades to ambiance. The stranger pulls from port and departs under a blue sky.