A Dream of Dance

January 25, 2011
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I walk in the two thin glass doors and wait patiently in line. The attractive cashier asks me, “The usual, caramel macchiato?” I blush, thank him, pay, and walk to my favorite table by the window. He comes strolling over a few minutes later holding a soft green cup with steaming coffee. He’s so confident, sliding along in his khaki pants and black polo. He strolls up to me, a smile on his face, sets down my drink, winks, and strides away. My heart fluttered and skipped a beat. This is the reason I come into the same coffee shop every day for my lunch break. I look into the coffee and see a sweet surprise. As I smell the sweet and gaze at the pretty mixing of colors, I slowly drift into a daydream…

We took a leisurely stroll along the beach. Walking slowly down the sandy beach until we were just distant dots on the skyline. Our bare feet grazed the ground as we skipped around along the shore. He took my hand and swung our arms together in time to a song he was quietly humming. We continued along the beach, and I led him into the shallow, warm water. As the ocean quietly lapped our feet, we joked and laughed, having a swell time. We walked back onto the shore and dried our feet in the sand. It clung to our damp feet as we walked towards a log to sit and dry off on. We sat in the sun a while, warming up and enjoying the time we had. He continued to hum, though he didn’t realize I was listening. It was a slow song, not one I recognized. All of the sudden, he took his arm from around my waist. He grasped my hand and pulled me from the log into his arms. His humming got suddenly louder, just as the sun began to drift towards the mountains. He took my hand and led me in a dance. He swung me, dipped me, held me, and hugged me. I loved the feeling of the sun on my face, my skirt twirling as he spun me, and my hair brushing along my back with each move. He smiled down at me and pulled me close. I lay my head on his shoulder as we continued to sway back and forth, a perfect dance. The moment was breathtaking, one I would never trade. As the song he hummed ended, he picked me up and swung me around. At that moment, I felt on top of the world. For the split second he held me in the air, I felt as if I could fly. He set me down and we began our slow walk back towards our belongings. We held hands, and steadily made our way along, our shadows growing the whole time. Every once in a while, he would spin me again, and I wished that time would slow so the moments could last longer. We sat together on a sandy beach towel, watching the sunset. The colors streamed across the sky as the sun sank below the mountains, bit by bit. We lounged there cuddled together. He puts his arm around me and we held hands. I lay my head on his chest and listen to the rhythmic beating of his heart. Our legs intertwined and our feet gently rubbed together, covered with sand. He took a deep breath and smiled down at me. I looked deep into his eyes and saw the sweetness of his soul. The orange and pink continued to engulf the sky and the sun barely peeked out from behind the mountains. The waves rippled up upon the shore and lapped against the logs and rocks. Some people nearby built a fire, and the smell of smoke slowly mixed with the salty sea air. A pillar of dark smoke lifted into the air and darkened the sky. All the while, we lay together, watching as the darkness pushed the light from the sky. We talked the day away, and soon, the darkness took over. The moon replaced the sun and the stars began to align. I huddled close to him, enjoying his warmth, for with the dark came the cold. The night was perfect. As he rhythmically stroked my hair, I lay there embracing him, listening to his heartbeat, enjoying every last minute of the day. As we grew quiet, I began to slip from consciousness…

I woke from my daydream to that same cup of coffee I had been holding. I looked up to see him, smiling at me. That same smile he always gave me. The one that swept me off my feet, the one I always returned, and the one that made me come here every day. He strode over to me again and handed me a receipt, thanked me, and walked away. Just as I slipped it into my purse, I saw he had written something on it. It was his name and number. That, is where our real story began.

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BrownEyedGirl said...
Jan. 30, 2011 at 6:48 pm
I thought that was sweet.
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