#40

the band played on.
couples danced around him, the foxtrot, the waltz, the samba. wind swept across his face, he could see the flash and shadow of light through closed eyes. once in awhile, a brush on his arm as someone came too close.
slightly upturned lips.
in his mind, he tapped his toe with the beat of the band.
and he held his hands up, fingers wrapped around her imaginary waist, remembering her laughter at a misstep; her awkward movements.
behind him, a request for the dance. he nodded, his eyes still closed. in the middle of the floor, she released the brakes on his chair. he was spinning now. they laughed at the awkward movements.
and they danced.
the band played on.