I don't know why I wrote this. 10/31/2006

She was already drenched in sweat, he’s holding her close. Their moves were not exactly appropriate but they were still in tune with the beat. She thinks they’re too close. Her right hand on his left, their elbows brushing against each other, his right palm so comfortably rested on the middle of her back, as if supporting her. Her left arm positioned on his shoulder, with fingers just half an inch away from his nape. She was never held this close before, not by a stranger. They talk not in whispers because the music is loud, but it’s almost cheek to cheek, and too close enough to conclude they’re already hugging each other loosely.

It was just almost purely professional for her, she felt obligated to teach him a few moves. He carried on slowly, gracefully, and it somehow impressed her. He might be trying to impress her, or he might not be. They were the only young couple on the dance floor, neither of them bothered. It felt warm, it felt good. It felt like being finally at home from a stressful day at work.

Loosely hugging each other, talking randomly about anything not important. They were like two old friends getting to know each other for the first time. It wasn’t like a fairy tale at all. It was just plain and simple, yet somehow intimate, conversation of two friends who see each other everyday yet rarely get to talk because of no particular reason. She was aloof and indifferent, been able to maintain that kind of personality since the time he knew her. He was overly mature in all ways, acting like ten years older than his age, since the time she knew him. But they’re holding each other close. Each not wanting to let go of the other.

He walked her at the exit gate to hail a taxi. Still holding her back, kind of reassuring. She waved him goodbye, he wished her good night. There was a voice inside her asking millions of questions but she just shrugged it off, not wanting to entertain any thought.

A couple of days passed, they still see each other, the way they did five months ago. There was no hint of that warm cuddly night when they held each other close. She just thought of it as an off-handed pro bono dancing lesson, and she dared not to think of whatever he may have thought of it. They occasionally talk about petty things. She’s not too apathetic as before, trying to open up. Maybe she realized that there could be better days, after all. She thinks he still acts way older than his age, but at least she heard him joke once or twice. Nothing much changed.

She’s not hoping, although she did not fully dismiss the idea that they will be dancing once again, sooner or later, or even maybe never. It wouldn’t hurt at all. However, she’s unsure.