i like how a song can encapsulate a moment, a feeling, or even an entire world into itself. that's what i'm getting right now.
a large ballroom filled with society's best, dressed to the nines, talking to each other at tables lit by candles, little pools of light in the dimness that catch and flicker here upon a woman's diamond necklace, there on a man's cufflinks as he reaches for his drink. a group of gossiping women with too much makeup and too little clothing cluster closer together in a corner as one of them leans in to impart some particularly juicy tidbit, her eyes gleaming with illicit knowledge. the other women in the circle pretend shock or dismay, but their delight in this new piece of information is obvious.
white-fronted waiters dot the perimeter, ready at a moment's notice to leap into action as soon as a graceful hand is raised, or eye contact made. some are skilfully wending their way through the maze of linen-topped tables, careful never to spill their precious cargo upon the heads of the diners. against a midnight-blue backdrop the band plays, taking their instruction from the bandleader. his baton sways gently back and forth, almost as if controlled by a stray breeze, and not a steady, methodical person with an innate sense of musicality.
a girl sits alone at a table in the corner nearest the band. now and then she darts nervous glances at the dancing couples, circling the dance floor like swans floating upon the water. she fidgets, toying with the stem of her fluted champagne glass. she sees a man coming towards her, a little unsteady on his feet, finally halting in front of her. she does not want to dance, but he insists. clutching the fingers of her right hand too tightly, the ring on her longest finger mashing uncomfortably into her other digits, he drags her unceremoniously onto the dance floor. she stumbles a little, catching the toe of her silver lamé sandal on the place where carpet meets dance floor. he pulls harder on her arm, and she has no choice.
she becomes tired of the alcohol on his breath fairly quickly, especially combined with the weight of his foot upon her toes, and his grip around her upper arm. when the band pauses in between songs and the dancers around them applaud enthusiastically, she seizes her chance. kicking him in the ankle (those sandals are pointy), she breaks free, darting quicksilver-fast through the sea of people. the billowing curtain is like a flag of hope, and she pushes it back to find a door ajar. the door opens on a balcony overlooking a garden of some sort, which she would probably appreciate more under different circumstances. she steps to the side, waiting for her pursuer to burst through the door. but no-one comes. for whatever reason, she has not been followed. perhaps he decided she wasn't worth it, and went in search of more willing company. she exhales in relief, moving forward to lean against the balustrade. she gingerly eases off her sandals, wincing as her feet come into contact with the unforgiving stone of the patio.
the music has started again inside, and she takes a moment to listen. then, she leans down to pick up her shoes in one hand. gathering a handful of her skirt in the other hand, she slowly descends the stairs into the garden, the music following her into the night.
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