The music blares through the speakers, the red lights swerve and contort shapes and forms.
I watch from the shadows. Taking a step forward, I emerge, drink in hand (it’s only water), bathed in the scarlet lights.
She is dancing, twisting lithely, turning sharply. She is staring straight at me, calling me in for a dance. It’s as if she knows…
Turning back a few hours, we are strangers. I am plonked opposite her at a table, and look up into her eyes. Her eyes gleam, as if someone had plucked stars from the sky and given them a face to inhabit.
I draw out a smile, and then accomplish a laugh.
The light in her eyes dances.
I watch from the shadows.
The cup is empty and I have no excuse not to dance with her. Yet my eyes feast upon her movements, and I cannot move.
I cannot move. I cannot breathe for want of watching her.
She is stealing my breath, robbing me of my logic, plundering my thoughts, resurrecting a heart. I blame the stars in her eyes.
She smiles. I am smiling too, I can feel it. She draws near, and all rational thought is far gone.
We are close enough to touch. I begin to lift a hand, to reach out, and she darts away like timid deer; only she is teasing, playing. Suddenly, we are children caught in a game.
She turns circles around me, and I turn to meet her halfway. I cannot lose the stars. She smiles, as if she knows…
Hours later, the music dies away, and the bleeding lights turn bright yellow. Movement stops, and I am left to confront the stars in her eyes.
I want nothing more than to take her hand and walk into the night, beneath an ivory moon, saying everything and nothing.
But there is no time.
The game has ended, and it is now time to return home, before the last train departs.
Before a walk in the moonlight. Before I think about the dance again. Before I fall deeper. Before I want to see her again. Before I need to see her again.
Before I need to kiss her.