Call and return

It was always like this, night after night for a whole shadowy season. Him and her, a world unto themselves. She backed away, bright eyes large, her face unnatural, pale. He stepped forward, his face tense, expectant. He clutched at her back and held onto her belt, pulling her close. She felt his heart beat. Fast. He took a step back and she followed - a puppy on a lead, under his control. He gripped her hand and flung her with sudden force away from him. She spun, but, at the last moment before she collapsed, his support was there, sure hands at her waist. He dropped her and she stretched out her arms, taut, in supplication. Tears traced down her face as she leant back. He folded her back into his arms and rocked her. Tenderness. He smiled. She took up his hand and stepped back - he was still there. They were two people. She dropped her hand away; he held his out to her. She took another slow measured movement back, then another, her back arched and head tilted. Tall. She leant forward. He waited motionless, poised. With quick steps she glided past him, abruptly he was before her. He caught her and held her tight. Without effort she was flying, for a second, for two, until he let her down. There was no space between them. They were one. Stillness. For a beat, there was silence. They relaxed. Tired. She bowed her head. He took her hand in his and they turned. They stood side-by-side, breathing. Music faded. Light flooded their faces. A rush of applause. Shouts. The dancers bowed low, straightened, and retreated, hand in hand, into the dark.

Miriel