Shall we dance?

I twirl around the room, my skirts flaring around my ankles, arms held as if I held a lover, my lover, within my hands. I close my eyes and melt into the music, spinning, stepping in time to the beat of my heart. If I blur my mind, I can almost see him, almost feel the soft tickle of his hair against my left hand, the heat of his fingers and the thrum of his pulse in my right.

I turn faster, ignoring the ache in my arms, my legs, my feet, the pain far less than the open wound in my chest. The world spins, the fragments of my dreams slide along the floor, carried along by the breeze of my skirts. Weariness flows through my veins and I slow, knowing that what I’m doing is unsustainable. Untenable. Like so many other things I’ve forced in the past. Stop. Now. Pivot. Shift. Then once more, again, but slower.

I open my eyes, my fantasy shattering back into empty space. The thing to do, the only thing I can do, is to open myself again. Open myself to the music, to the possibilities that simply are, to a strange world that became stranger overnight. What else is there? What else can there be?

Lifting my chin, I let a small smile curve my lips, my hands turning and cupping the air, sketching out an invitation, waving to the dark. Come. Come here. Closer. Closer still.
The rhythm changes, shifting up tempo, a trickle of sweat sliding between my breasts as I stare into the space before me and issue it an unmistakable invitation.

Come to me. Take me. Lead me on an adventure. Find me. Fight for me. Love me.

The music slows, soothing my heart and bruised feet. I raise my hands again into the classic dance position, this time for her. She smiles at me, full of fey glee, tawny eyes daring me to take the lead. Her fingers entwine with mine, so tightly I can’t tell where I begin and where she ends. I grin back, answering her taunt.

Perhaps. Perhaps I will, tomorrow.

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