The story goes like this.
One girl, left dancing in the rain, broke the heel off her shoe.
Damn shoe. There always is a shoe, and a slow fall, and an arm appearing out of nowhere to encircle her waist.
Then the world slows down to the hush of breath and music; somewhere there is music welling up before the kiss.
Fairy dust scatters around them, or perhaps glitter.
That is the story.
It doesn’t end like this, an old woman silent in a wooden chair, a rocker.
It ends with that kiss.
Wonderful. And sad. And too true.
ReplyDeleteEXACTLY. (And beautifully written, m’dear. Of course.)
ReplyDeleteOh that's so beautiful! And Helen got it - sad and too true too.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful!
ReplyDelete