Oh, that muse of mine…
Only everyone else realized how lonely they both were. A common enough occurence, that which was glaringly obvious to the rest of the world, lie just outside the affected or rather afflicted’s peripheral vision. They circled the bar at opposite ends. Each seeking out the arm’s length friends they had come to meet. There were smiles, laughter, and genuine connections. Not deep or soul touching, but again, comfortable. Easily mistaken for satisfying. I watched them both, knowing what was going to be the outcome. I tipped my drink to fate and sat back to watch the show.
The meeting I knew was destined to happen took place late in the evening. It wasn’t a formal request, they just happened to be dancing in each other’s air space when she caught his eye and he lead her to the dance floor. The made no attempt to talk over the music, instead allowing their vibe to make the initial introductions. He made note of her confidence, she made note of his silence. One song bled into the other without notice of the two of them. Their friends however ticked off each beat, making it a point to remember they danced a full six songs before the switch to something slower caused them to pause, decide, and move in close to continue on through songs number seven, eight, and nine. Each one a tribute to things best done in the dark. She made note still of his manners, the polite way he held her with the potential to be intimately desirable. He made note of how fluidly she fit in his respectful embrace, the way her natural rhythm spoke of carnal talent.
Dana Ellington, MAPW 