Dating : The Dancer

h2>Dating : The Dancer

Melanie Kirk
Photo by David Hofmann on Unsplash

The three women sheltered under the porch of their hotel. They were fascinated by the dancing figure in the middle of the street, illuminated by the streetlight above her as she twirled and pirouetted, completely oblivious to the horrendous weather.

“Do you think we should tell her it’s raining?” said Andrea, the shortest of the three, watching the dancer with a nervous look on her face. “She’s sure to catch a cold.”

“I’m sure she knows, silly!” snapped Samantha as she wrung the water from her glove. “Besides, she wouldn’t hear us over the rain, so one of us would have to go over there. And I can tell you it’s not going to be me; do you know how long it took me to style my hair this morning?” She rain a hand over her perfectly coiffed curls as if to prove the point.

“Well, I’m certainly not going,” said Natasha with her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. Meanwhile, the dancing figure twirled, arms outstretched, and threw her head back, laughing into the dark sky, as her wet hair clung to her face.

“She’s sure to catch a cold,” said Andrea again. “Perhaps I should go …”

“Are you mad?”said Samantha. She shot out an arm to block her friend’s way. “You’ll only get ill yourself, and what good will that do anyone? Just leave her to it, I’m sure she’ll tire of it soon. Now, let’s go inside; I’m absolutely frozen.”

The three women turned and went through the door to the hotel, leaving the dancing figure alone in the empty town square. In the bar, they ordered three white wine spritzers and warmed their frozen hands by the fire, quickly forgetting the strange dancer outside as they slipped into a comfortable rhythm of the idle gossip that they were accustomed to.

Anyone who chose to look out their window would see that the figure remained outside all night, never ceasing her mesmerizing dance until the sun began to peek above the horizon and the last droplet of rain fell at her feet.

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