When She Stopped Dancing
Posted at 09:53 PM

(note: this is not a poem.)

The wind thrashed relentlessly at everything that stood proud and tall. The lights were off. It had been a few moments before I'd seen the newscaster announcing the suspension of classes. And yet in an instant, everything disappeared in darkness. But because we were blessed with eyes that could adjust to what little light, I came to appreciate the privacy the darkness gave me. In my own head, in my own world.

I looked out the window to see the color of the sky, as if it had been painted just for the end of days. The color you see when war is thick in its own smell. A mixture of black and a burning sun that wasn't there at all. And against the sky I saw a coconut tree, dancing gracefully as the wind tried to knock her down. The rain fell over her shoulders to comfort her. She swayed on and on. And in that instant I remembered him.

He could be in London right now, writing the novel he'd promised he'd read to me one day. I wondered if it was raining there just as hard. For London always reminded me of rain and black umbrellas. I was left in agony to dell on my feelings for him when everything around me reflected my mood. Gloomy, struggling to fit in with the sky that never seemed to turn completely dark.

I'd waited so long for him to return my letters. One letter had engraved itself in my memory as I ran my fingers over every word. He had asked me if I were willing to be his valentine. Why shouldn't I be? He brought out the best in me with his poetry and stupid guffaws.

I smiled as I remembered him trying to get a hold of me when all I'd do was just break away. But those childish games ended when slight touches turned to warm, wet kisses and mere glances turned to stares that said "I love you."

But when he decided to pursue his dream as a writer, I didn't stop him, for I knew literature and work had both been his first love. With trembling lips I kissed him on his left cheek, his forehead, and then his lips. He gave my arm one tight squeeze and promised me he'd write me every single day, to remind me who much he loved me. Convinced by a man's heartfelt words, I bade him farewell and returned to my darkest memories.

Not a day went by without me thinking of him, and it has been ten months since we'd last spoken to each other. That valentine being the last fragment of his tenderness. I thought about my unconditional love for him that I've kept stirring in my coffee cup. How unfair for him to let go of me without a single utter! Tears chased each other down my cheeks as they forced their way towards a small puddle of sorrow.

Just then I heard my dad's keys jingle downstairs as he entered the house announcing he had just arrived, shouting out my name and the words "I have his letter!"

I looked outside to see the coconut tree had stopped dancing.