Dance Goodnight

May 4, 2010
Custom User Avatar
More by this author

There is no sound, no music. Only the melodious silence of a summer’s eve. When the moon shines and the stars glow. When the soft wind rustles the trees and the faint call of crickets enchants the night. The world is sleeping.


He had walked me home, the two of us enjoying the quiet and peace of the darkness. We had strode side by side, close enough to touch, but never doing so. We had been afraid to, of what the other would think, of how the other would react.


We had arrived at my house, and I had thanked him for a wonderful evening, on the sidewalk. He had smiled, with a glow in his eyes. I had bid him goodnight as I began to walk up the walkway to my house, where my father was no doubt waiting for me to come home.


He had called to me. I had turned. He had asked me to dance. I had stared at him for a minute. I had never dance before. No had ever asked. I had smiled softly and walked to back to him. He had put his arm around my waist and had drawn me close.


We had caught each other’s hands. I had placed my other hand on his shoulder. Then we had begun to dance. I had started out terribly, but he had led me into the rhythm of the dance easily. He had started turning slowly around, still keeping the rhythm, so I had been able to follow.


My head rests against his shoulder now. We have been dancing for several minutes in the silence. My father is probably watching us from the front window of our house, waiting patiently for me to come inside. But I don’t want to.


He stops dancing, but doesn’t pull away. We stand there in each other’s arms for a minute more. But I know its past time to go, so I pull gently out of his arms and smile into his eyes. He smiles back, his eyes aglow again.

Without turning, I start stepping backwards, my eyes still locked with his for a moment more. I nod goodnight and start turning.

But he catches my hand, and draws it close to his face, drawing me back to him. He looks down at my hand in his and presses his lips to it. His lips are warm against my cold hand. He looks up into my eyes, and whispers, “Goodnight.”

He lets go of my hand and turns and walks down the block towards his home. I stand on the sidewalk staring after him, a small smile still on my lips. Into the cool summer’s night, darkness all around me, I whisper a single word:


Join the Discussion

This article has 1 comment. Post your own now!

sparkofheart said...
May 15, 2010 at 5:49 pm
that was really sweet :) good job
Site Feedback