September 22 - She Kindly Stopped For Me
She’s gorgeous. Even from well across the room, I can tell. She wears just a touch of makeup, just enough to emphasize features pretty enough to belong in an art museum. Her gown sits loosely on her thin frame, though the sculpt of the dress is clearly deliberately designed to give her plenty of extra fabric. And tying her whole appearance together, a large red brooch is pinned just above her chest, the dark blood red of the heart it is worn right above.
I watch her dance, almost infatuated, letting my feet carry me through the muscle memory with my own partner. He leads me, firm but somehow meek, a pretty forgettable partner for a waltz. My partner notices I’m not paying attention to his mediocre dancing, but he’s clearly catching glances himself. Naturally, when the orchestra comes to the conclusion of their song, we gently say our goodbyes as we drift to other corners of the room.
The woman I’m watching seems to have left her own partner in the dance, so I stride across the room as the band warms up for their next piece. Catching her eye, I ask her to dance.
She looks at me, a funny glint in her eyes, but she agrees. I’ve led a waltz before, so I take her hand and begin to lead her through a slow, sweeping basic step. We dance for a minute, arms locked and faces practically touching, before she asks me a question. Her voice is gentle, not accusatory, as she asks me, “Do you know who I am?”
“I’m afraid I’m not quite sure. Something about you rings familiar, but beautiful things always do,” I’m laying it on thick, but her gentle eyes seem to approve. “Should I know you?”
“Ah, maybe you should, maybe you shouldn’t. I’m not here for you, so don’t worry.”
This last comment gives me pause, a momentary hiccup in my rhythm. “Wait, who are you?”
“Of course, I’m so bad at introductions. I’m Death, happy to make your acquaintance.”