This Last Dance

This Last Dance

The ticking grandfather clock was no reminder to them of the neglected belongings, yet to be packed. The boxes, half empty, had been left on the gracefully made bed, filled with clothing laid over the edge of the box, and spilling onto the white sheets. As the sun set, the light crept out of the colorful room, once filled with laughter and hushed whispers, and now heavy with emptiness, time slowly chipping away at the memories of the summer. 

Their time was fleeting with the sunlight, but the night still felt young as the wistful music grew louder. The sound of a violin was joyfully jumping around from window to window and circling the two dancing. They spinned, her dress flying around them, as if unaffected by the laws of gravity. It was a truly incredible dress - flower patterns, the likes of which you’d only see on a painting, were hand embroidered into the light fabric. A real flower, a rose,  pinned in her dark hair, was blooming in it’s beautiful blood red color, almost unreal. Her hands, with golden slim rings in shapes of roses, shook slightly, one resting on his shoulders, the other in his. His hands were cold, not like ice, but more like the cool summer breeze. She had grown to enjoy his company over the summer they had spent together, and now alone in this grand ballroom, she began to miss him before he could even depart. His soft smile, his warm eyes, his joyous laughter. 

The violin grew louder and louder, speeding up, as if teasing them, seeing how fast they could dance. They picked up the pace, barely avoiding stepping on each other’s feet. They had grown used to stumbling over each other, stepping on each other’s feet, muttering apologies. But this evening had been different, unphased by the change in tempo, they circled the ballroom as gracefully as ever. They were the only people left on earth, or so they felt. Life had paused for them, allowing them this last moment, postponing the heart wrenching goodbye they both knew was steadily approaching. 

Her heart fluttered with every step, holding her breath as they floated across the dancing floor, the wooden boards creaking slightly with each step. Her shoes with heels that usually cramped her feet, leaving blisters and bruises stood by the door, one upright and one fallen down. They had beautiful flowers on them, hand stitched and painted. Her feet, now barefoot, had tapped the cool ground, barely avoiding his dark shoes. 

Her eyes, unusually warm for their cool tones, had met his. As if making a promise, he smiled. It was comforting, despite the departure, he’d remain in her heart, and his smile would be burned into her memory, unable to be erased by time nor effort. The violin began to slow, as if a tired dog, circling its bed before laying down to rest. Fear spiked in her chest, rising and rising. Time began to flow once more, unpausing, and leaving her grasping at the fleeting moments. He had remained calm, the reassuring smile remaining unbother on his face, but now it was less of a promise and more of a reminder of what she was moments from losing 

Their dance began to slow with the music, but she had fallen out of rhythm. Her feet, hurrying to try and catch the rhythm again, messing up more and more, stepping on his feet and muttering apologies. The violin grew fainter, now in a minor key, as if distance growing between them and the angelic sound. Her hands, now shaking uncontrollably, gripped tighter, as his became colder and colder. 

No, no, no. Five minutes. No, this can’t be it. Five more minutes. 

Her mind raced. It felt like air floated out the window, leaving the ballroom in a vacuum and suffocating her. The violin was inaudible over her heart pounding in her ears. Tears began to drip down her soft cheeks. They streamed down, dripping onto her collar bone and leaving dark spots on the collar of her dress. She tipped her head, resting it on his shoulder. Lifting her damp face to meet his eyes, and seeing his now surprisingly pale skin, a sob broke out of her chest, interrupting the violin, as the sound faded completely. The petals of the flower neatly pinned in hair began to fall to the ground, fading in color and going completely grey before reaching the ground. They fell until nothing but the stem was left in her hair. 

His hands, now ice cold, losened their grip on her hand and waist. She could feel their time on the brink of its end. The moment she dreaded had now loomed over her, casting a shadow on them as they slowed their dance, now in silence. They were almost still now, barely swaying in place. She had lowered her gaze to the ground, barely able to see through her tears, her sobs quieting.

She had let go of his shoulders, gently backing away. Looking back up, to the now empty room, the dreaded feeling of grief hit her. She fell to her knees, her fluffy dress softening her fall. Burying her face in her hands, she sobbed as the last glimpse of sunlight fled the ballroom, leaving her alone in the dark, the only light coming from the rising moon. 

No. 

————

She often visited his grave, leaving flowers, and chatting with him. She’d told him about what she was reading, her friends, his family. She would sometimes read him the paper, if she’d found anything interesting. She had missed him more than she could ever describe. Yet after months of holding a tight grip on her, the waves of crippling grief had left her alone, leaving only his smile and laughter. Leaving only their summer and the violin that played him off, and leaving her forever grateful for their goodbye. 

Whenever she felt lonely, bothered by his absence, the moon kept her company, as it was the only witness to their goodbye.