there was a song.
it kept playing. and his was a lonely figure dancing to it.
all alone in the corner. nobody bothers to understand his quiet routine. he kept to himself most of the time. completely immersed in swaying his body to the soft beating of the music. but the picture was sorely incomplete.
he used to come here to listen to the songs that filled this place. he would sat there by himself and listened. his presence here was merely physical, he found himself transcended into the musical notes, one song after another. a girl came in one day and caught his eyes. she was a dancer. the one that looses herself in music too. she spent her time here dancing to the music played while he watched. one day she pulled him to the dance floor. she taught him to move in the music serenade. against the perfect lullaby. against the soft beating of her heart. she imparted life on him that day. the softness of her skin. the unmistakable scent of desire as two bodies trapped in the symphony of beautiful courtship.
one day she stopped coming. he waited. he could not dance the routine without her. he only knows how to move against her body. he responded well to her lead on the dance floor. he danced for her. and so he sat patiently waiting.
moons and years have passed since. one day he walked to the dance floor. he listened carefully to the music that was playing. he closed his eyes and imagined how she would have moved. how her dress would sway into the gentle tunes. and sometimes how she would pout her mouth playfully as he circled her nearer. he remembered her beautiful burst of laughter as she threw herself at him sometimes. slowly he moved his body to the music. he closed his eyes still. transported into a world where she was still before him, guiding his hand against her phenomenal moves. against this beautiful music.
and that was what he has become.
nobody knows whether she would show up ever again in this place. but he kept dancing in the corner. one song after another.
