Lights strung overhead on coils of rope, laced with ribbons of color. Tambourines clapped, feet stopped, and everywhere the twirl of the dance.

“Come on.” She took my hand, pulling me into the thick of it. Faces and fabrics flashed before my eyes, until I gave up and stopped trying to see.

Like the currents of a river, the crowd carried me through the dance. A flash of heat struck my cheek, a fire’s bloom, gone before I could turn my head.

The smell of wine befuddled my mind, casting everything in a fine haze, until others’ hands carried me on, my feet crying for stillness, my face all alight, my cheeks red, for more reasons than one.

Eventually the crowd spat me out, leaving me to stumble to a nearby bench, my last strength used to turn and face the spectacle I had once been a part of.

Tufts of lace bounced alongside curls of hair, tickling the faces of strangers, who smiled in turn. And through it all, not a word was spoken. Only laughter gave voice to their song.

Leave a Reply