The word 'hunt' exudes this sense of anxious search, a desperate search.
A fear that the world will move past while you still sit alone at parties, smiling, trying to enjoy the music and buzzing banter?
The wistful walk through the park with your fingers longing for another's?
Clenched tight in the silent re-affirmation of love and security.
Someone to sink into and lose yourself for a while.
Someone to share moments that become special when it is that person you're sharing with.
Someone you can sit next to for hours without feeling the need to talk. No empty silences.
A hunt for that someone who probably comes only once.
A tough hunt, a near impossible hunt.
But as Murphy likes it, you never end up getting what you're on a hunt for.
The minute you stop at the side to catch your breath, worn out and dejected,
Someone lands right into your lap.