Slow Dancing in the Dark

Siri shuffles my liked songs.

The intro trumpet of “This Guys in Love with you” slowly fills my car. I navigate the road, unconscious of my actions, my body conditioned by the rhythm of commute.

I see her face, yet stir the car in between the yellow lines of the road edges. She smiles at me and grabs my hand gently. She fades into the dark room, as she pulls me forward, the trumpets growing louder.

We don’t talk about the mess.

We already did.

The tiles were cold.

You step around a spill without looking down.

I move a bottle with my foot, as if it was staged.

We dance slowly in the middle of the living room, between a sofa and a table that has hosted too much.

I put my hand around your waist.

You rest you head on my chest.

We sway.

Less dancing.

We turn, spinning slowly, careful not to break anything else.

The song ends.

We don’t stop moving.