|The Dance (standard:romance, 607 words)|
|Author: DonnaR||Added: Oct 12 2000||Views/Reads: 2004/1||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A night of disappoinment turns strangely fulfilling|
The Dance The room is crowded. I hear the laughter and many conversations going on around me. Occasionally, I also chuckle at a joke or story I overhear. I'm alone though, amongst many. I wish simply for time to pass so that I can leave, return to my solitude where I am my only companion. I stand apart from this glittering group, never quite dressed the way of the others. My face and body different from most. It's not that I mind, really, it is just that I wish to be appreciated for me. I am not the clothes I wear, nor am I the style of my hair. Those things are the package I come in. Unfortunately very few are willing to look beneath the outer wrappings and get to know me. These things bothered me for many years, and yes, the fact that I mention them now, shows that they still have the power to hurt me. No one really notices that I am here, so I think I shall just make my way to the exit and leave. Go back to my world of dreams and fantasy. My safe world. As I make my way through the crowd I have a strange feeling. I cannot describe it. It is a feeling of being watched. Singled out from the crowd for some reason. I feel no sense of threat from this feeling, but rather a sense of wonder. My gaze travels the room. Seeking the source of the feeling. Standing apart from the crowd, much as I was myself, I see another. Our eyes meet and the strange sensation increases. I find myself drawn to him. I cross the floor, my eyes never leaving his. He stares, almost unblinking, as I approach. No expression crosses his face. I can read nothing there, not disgust, not desire, not pleasure nor anger, nothing. I, who am so good with reading others, cannot read him. My feet move of their own accord. I am reluctant to advance further, yet cannot seem to stop myself. I now stand before him. He is taller than me, slightly, his eyes intense. I feel the smile that I tried to conjure die before it appears. For what seems like hours, but in reality I am sure was only seconds, we look into each others eyes. His hand reaches out and I am startled by it, for he has remained so still that I was not sure he could move. I look at the hand, palm up, patiently waiting. The fingers are long and strong, the skin tanned. A hand that knows work and is not afraid of it. I place my hand in his and watch as his fingers close around mine. He steps forward and now only inches separate our bodies. I hear the music in the background, slow and sweet. Music that tells the story of first times. He takes me into his arms and we sway to this wonderful tune. In his arms I lose the feeling of separateness, aloneness, differentness. For the minutes of this song and this dance, I feel complete. The music slowly fades away, the song ends, the dance ends. I am released. He backs away from me and I see the tears in his eyes. I watch as he turns away and leaves me. Another awaits him, one that means the world to him. I feel I should be sad, but I am not, for he shares himself with me. True, I will never have all the dances, but the one that he gives me is so sweet. I am thankful for the dance. Tweet
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