Author’s note:  This piece was originally written back in 2012 and has always been one of my favorite one-off writes. So with that, a little tweaking of the words and a change of tune…

Press play…

“Have I always been here?” he asked.

As it was every evening, or so it seemed, her light was in the distant corner of the room as he walked in. Drawn to her smile, to her warmth, to her glow…biting his own lip to regain his confidence, the chase began anew.

The dark room filled with the usual more fashionable party goers…but she was here every night. Always early, she would have a dance or two with friends before he would arrive. Her flames of red hair would bob and weave with her dance and laughter at the evening’s council. Her yellow sun dress spinning and swaying to the tunes of the night.

Then he arrived from the shivering cold dark.  In the room he immediately felt her warmth and tossed his overcoat at the coat check. A dark grey zoot suit may be out of fashion, but it is him.

His deep blue eyes are caught and warmed by her face…but he never truly catches her eyes. As his own dance begins across the room he approached her making his way between the other minglers and stopping to order his drink. His view returned to the floor and found she had moved and is no closer than when he first entered.

Liquid confidence in hand, he began to sway and sashay towards her again…moved with the beat and allowing for the occasional twirl.

With each spin, however, she has moved again…further back to, it seems, where things began.

As the evening’s sloth creeps on, the chase continues until that one fateful spin when he turns to see her looking directly at him…from across the room…and, as happens every night, she gives him a smile and a wink before slipping on her coat and sliding out the door…leaving the room darker and colder.

He returned to the bar and orders another drink. His mind already worked on what happens when he sees her tomorrow night…he wanted to romance her, the woman he has only seen from across the room…to dance with her and to take her home on his arm.

Hours later as the evening ends, he said his goodbyes and thanks to those mingling on…they are always there. Shaking and kissing a few hands first, he got his overcoat. He slipped out the door into the dark rain to begin his walk home. Collar flipped up to keep warm as his feet moved between sidewalk puddles with the memory of the evening beats. His confidence lost as he thinks he will never see her again…never mind that he would ever have the opportunity to dance with her.

…not seeing the cab pull up behind him in front of the joint he had left. The flame-red hair brightens the morning as she gets out and sees him. Her coat is hung over her arm and the sun dress choice is now orange. With a smile her chase, as it seems to every morning, begins anew…

sun and moon by publicarte

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