“I just realized that’s a completely different necktie”
“I changed”
Pause
“Yes,” look, turn, sweep, walk.
“Pesky little sentences,” muttered
It was an evening affair, a ball or dance or party of the night.
He was dressed with a red tie this time of an unsure shade. She had a long dress fit to trip on if it didn’t fall at her will so well.
She looks forward when she walks, she’s that sort of tall, height regardless.
Some sort of music plays, strings of the proud kind.
People danced or walked or mingled but they part down the stage.
A white wall and pedestal with a bust on top spin by, she’s around the corner.
Cake. “Hello beaut”
“First taste?”
“Could I ever not” – a bite, eyes close from rising cheeks, delicious.
She grabs the cake says, “thanks beau.”
Turn, sweep, walk, eyes to cake.
Someone in the hall, she moves to spin past.
“Tell me love, let’s have some tea” gloved hand out, she hardly sees it, eyes on cake.
To take his hand and dance, and find tea. Fork to plate she does.
Turn take sweep go
Things get dim and colorful
A pas de trois overcrowded, cake goes down on a small table, it spins away, cloth twirling like the drapes behind
She moves rooms
They aren’t dancing, but only if you think about it
A proper pas de deux, they wander perfectly in sync, spontaneous choreography
Does he have on a tailcoat or is it just his appearance? [dress it how you may]
A wheel on the wall he spins it
Door opens, it moves around and she’s in another space
Their grand romance leading her away
He took her to tea
She sits down like a fairy tale except
That it’s just a brief love story that stuck
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