A Collection of Short Stories
Acquaintances
Take my hand,
Take a breath,
Pull me close,
And take one step
They walked through the vast room hand in hand and heads held high. They barely knew each other; casual talks here and then didn’t exactly make them close friends. They were more than acquaintances though, this she knew. If she knew anything else, it was that she wanted to be friends with him. She wanted to know him and him to know her. There was something inside of her that urged to tell him a secret.
She didn’t know why, but he had that effect on her.
She spun twice, landing in front of him. With one hand, he touched her waist. With the other, he held her hand. She liked the feeling of having him close by; his lean muscular arms were probably the reason for that. He spun her and they went off-beat; her thoughts distracted her, making her take the wrong steps.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. The words came out of her mouth automatically, almost as if they had been waiting for the right moment to come out. She wasn’t one who usually asked for forgiveness easily; she wasn’t one to admit that she was wrong so eagerly. But somehow, he managed to change that.
She didn’t know why, but he did.
Almost immediately, he retracted his steps. “Follow me,” he said softly. His voice was soft, but it injected just a hint of authority. For that sole reason, because his voice injected authority and kindness at the same time, she followed him. She let him lead the steps, listening as he whispered what to do next.
Alas the song stopped and they took their bows. Without a word, they walked out together, still hand in hand, but barely saying a word. When nobody else could see them, they let go and walk off in different directions, acting as if they did not know each other at all.
Take a breath,
Pull me close,
And take one step
They walked through the vast room hand in hand and heads held high. They barely knew each other; casual talks here and then didn’t exactly make them close friends. They were more than acquaintances though, this she knew. If she knew anything else, it was that she wanted to be friends with him. She wanted to know him and him to know her. There was something inside of her that urged to tell him a secret.
She didn’t know why, but he had that effect on her.
She spun twice, landing in front of him. With one hand, he touched her waist. With the other, he held her hand. She liked the feeling of having him close by; his lean muscular arms were probably the reason for that. He spun her and they went off-beat; her thoughts distracted her, making her take the wrong steps.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. The words came out of her mouth automatically, almost as if they had been waiting for the right moment to come out. She wasn’t one who usually asked for forgiveness easily; she wasn’t one to admit that she was wrong so eagerly. But somehow, he managed to change that.
She didn’t know why, but he did.
Almost immediately, he retracted his steps. “Follow me,” he said softly. His voice was soft, but it injected just a hint of authority. For that sole reason, because his voice injected authority and kindness at the same time, she followed him. She let him lead the steps, listening as he whispered what to do next.
Alas the song stopped and they took their bows. Without a word, they walked out together, still hand in hand, but barely saying a word. When nobody else could see them, they let go and walk off in different directions, acting as if they did not know each other at all.
♠ ♠ ♠
For last year's promenade, I danced with a boy who had muscular arms.