“Shall we dance? On a bright cloud of music shall we fly?”
Listening to the strands of music that filled the ballroom, Lily’s fingers tapped to the rhythm of the song.
“Shall we dance? Shall we then say goodnight and mean goodbye?”
The dancers moved gracefully in front of her, skirts swirling as they passed by. She admired the graceful necks of the women and the broad shoulders of the men.
“”Or perchance, when the last little star has left the sky, shall we still be together with our arms around each other”
Hearing these lyrics, a teardrop fell slowly down her cheek. She remembered her love. So graceful, so strong. She had felt like a princess in his arms. And when they had danced! All the troubles of the world had seemed to disappear as they glided across the floor. During those moments, they were one with the music. Nothing else had mattered except their oneness and their affinity to what was playing.
“And shall you be my new romance? On the clear understanding that this kind of thing can happen? Shall we dance?”
And they had danced at every opportunity. At every ball. At every social. Even in the small dining room of their shared home. Closing her eyes, she pictured them laughing without inhibition as they had danced down the Champs Elysee on their honeymoon. The French had loved the romance of it – and so had she! Her love had known how to romance her – and how to bring laughter into her life.
She looked again at the dancers on the floor, their images reflecting in the mirrors hanging on the walls. The buzz of conversation revealed their happiness, their contentment. She should not be here, dressed in her widow’s clothing, mourning the death of her soul mate. She had thought she was ready. After all, it had been three years. But it had not been long enough. She was not yet ready to be a spectator to the evidence of what had made her so happy.
Turning her head, she indicated to her nurse that it was time to leave. Nodding her head, the young woman began wheeling the chair to the entrance.
What do you think happened to Lily and her loved one?
© Colline Kook-Chun, 2015
(This flash fiction was inspired by Laura’s Literary Lions prompt: Dance)